Find Her
by DaeMEon.ff
Summary: The battle is over, but many are missing. Oriana needs Jack's help to find out what happened to her sister. Contains violence, profanity and discussion of abuse.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

Originally written for a prompt on the kinkmeme.

I do not own the characters in this story, they are the property of Bioware/EA.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

"Son of a bitch!" Jack exclaimed as the field medic popped her shoulder back into its socket with a swift, and in Jack's opinion, unnecessarily painful move. "Motherfucker!" She grimaced, shooting a killer glare at the unfazed medic, who moved her arm around a bit to check if everything was in place, before not too kindly pressed Jack's arm against her stomach.

"Hold still," he said sternly while he dug into his pack for a sling.

Jack winced, rubbing her severely bruised shoulder with her left hand and looked around.

London was in complete ruins, smokes billowing from hundreds of places, the Sun struggling to break through the dark clouds, and as far as she could tell it was around noon.

"Fucking hell," she hissed to no one in particular. She was on a roll, and she couldn't be bothered with holding her mouth even though her students were staring at her. They were all battered and bruised and quite a bit rattled, but at least they were alive. Most of them.

Embedded in the 103rd Marines, her team held up pretty well, all things considered. They lost a few, way too many for Jack's taste, but her rational mind knew that they fared better than they should have. Considering that she was sure they would all die here, anybody who was still breathing was a success. Five of her kids came out of this bloodbath breathing, and even then, Rademaker lost an arm, but Jack was told she will pull through.

Nobody understood what happened exactly, but there was a bright flash from the Citadel and the big Reapers just toppled over. But the thralls, husks, harvesters and the lot, the indoctrinated ones remained standing. their ranks fell into disorder, they became less menacing, shambling around like zombies, attacking anything that moved. Still dangerous, but nothing near as bad as before the flash. By dawn the 103rd was regrouping, and carrying their wounded they fell back to one of the rallying points, to the safety of numbers. The marines said it would take days if not weeks until they clear the city of the remaining monsters.

They were sitting on rubbles around a makeshift field hospital, and Jack had to endure the torture of the medic at the insistence of her students, who said they were fine. It was time to tend to her own injuries. The doc put her arm in the sling and sternly warned her to take it easy for a few days, and then left to take care of the other wounded.

Jack clenched her hand into a fist and relaxed it a few times, testing her limits, hissing and wincing.

"Cocksuckers," she snarled, as a closing argument to her rant, and turned her attention to her students, huddled together a dozen yards away. They all looked at her oddly. Most of them didn't hear her swear this much since they knew her, and were probably wondering if she finally went mad. "Don't get any ideas," she warned them grumpily. "Once this is all over and we get back to the Academy, it's gonna be the Queen's English again."

Most of them blinked in bafflement, except Prangley, who gave her a half-hearted grin.

"Fucking-A, ma'am…" he started but his voice faltered as something caught his attention. The others followed his gaze.

"Jack?" said a familiar sounding voice, but the pitch was all wrong.

Jack snapped her head towards the newcomer, starting to flash a cocky grin that quickly froze. Miranda either went back in time and changed her hairstyle or–

"You must be Oriana," she managed to press out after a few heartbeats. Speaking of which, she was pretty sure her heart skipped a few. When she thought she was Miranda, it was anticipation, but after realizing it was her sister, a feeling of dread made her pulse rise. "Uh, I haven't seen Miranda," she said nonchalantly, trying to chase away the bad feeling.

Oriana was wearing the Crucible Science Staff uniform, and looked out of place with her clean and tidy look, without a speck of dirt or rip on her outfit. Not to mention her almost eerie looks. Not as pale as her sister, and with a more conventional hairdo, but undeniably related. _So this is how she looked like sixteen years ago,_ she mused, forgetting all the implications for a second.

"I know," Oriana said. "That's why I'm here."

Her voice jolted Jack back into the present, focusing on her eyes. It was full of desperation.

"Um, okay. She said she will come here?"

Oriana shook her head, her expression darkening.

"No. She-she said that if anything happens to her, I should find you, so…" her brows furrowed she fought to control her emotions, gathering enough wits to let out a nervous laugh. "So, here I am."

Jack nodded, feeling a bit dizzy. It was probably just the dehydration, the drugs, the lack of sleep and the pain.

"I-uh-I see. So she is–"

"Missing," Oriana replied quickly, with more strength in her voice, not letting Jack jinx it. She held Jack's gaze, so determined like she would will her sister into being okay.

Jack nodded sternly, searching her own thoughts, and the words she should say to the desperate girl. Breaking the bad news and handling the relatives was the ugly side of her job. She also didn't want to lie to Oriana.

She took a quick look at her students, who were all watching silently. Except for Prangley, who was openly staring, even his mouth hanging open. Rodriguez shot him a glance and elbowed him in the side, that made Prangley hiss and glare back at the other girl. "What?" he mumbled.

"A lot of units have not reported in yet. Communication is scarce. She could be anywhere," Jack offered finally, still fighting the surprise of Oriana's appearance and the news she broke. Before she could mull over the fact that this was the first time they met in person, Oriana spoke again.

"Exactly. I-I need your help, Jack. I need to find her."

Jack sighed, shaking her head in exhaustion and she looked at her students, who were still watching the exchange curiously. She didn't want to do this. She turned back towards Oriana.

"I have others to take care of, Oriana," she said, nodding towards her group. "We're all pretty banged up…"

That didn't come out as well as she hoped and Oriana was not taking it well either. The girl closed her eyes and sighed deeply, calming herself down. She looked back at Jack, gesturing with a hand, her voice trembling.

"You know her. If she were all right, she would have made contact by now," she paused until she took another breath. "You know that."

Jack winced. The last part was so Miranda, it was uncanny. Speaking plainly, and stressing her point so that you could not ignore it.

Jack also knew she was right. Miranda spent her whole adult life looking out for her sister, and making sure she was all right, that it was impossible that she did not prepare for every occasion. A Plan B would be just the beginning. If Oriana had to switch to whichever letter of the alphabet was assigned to "go to Jack", it must have been pretty serious.

And it was not like Oriana was stupid. If anything, she was as smart as her sister, and probably more emphatic, growing up in, you know, a normal family, that she probably thought this through, too. She would not take a bullshit answer, not when it came to either refusal or false hope.

And now this vision of a younger, flawless version of Miranda was looking at her with a determination and pleading stare that Jack couldn't ignore. She was not being impatient. She gave Jack time to process the information, but the sense of urgency was palpable.

"Fuck," Jack muttered, closing her eyes and shaking her head, rubbing her temple with a painful wince. Part of the reason she tried to avoid getting into this conversation was that she didn't want to know. She didn't want to deal with—whatever happened to Miranda. Because she just knew it could not end well and she was not sure she could take any more hits at this point.

She looked at her students, chewing her lips and caught Rodriguez and Hanson nodding at her. "I can't leave my kids, Oriana," she said finally, despite the signals from her students, with as much regret as she could muster.

Oriana's face went pale and her shoulders sank, but she managed to stay composed and quiet. The one thing she was not as good as her sister was hiding her emotions and thoughts. Oriana's expression was so open, that Jack could read her like a book.

"I-I understand," the girl whispered, looking away from her.

Jack was taking a breath to say something, but apparently Prangley found his voice.

"I'll go with her!"

This got Jack's attention, snapping her head towards the students.

"Like hell you will! You should all be drinking your electrolytes and chomping down energy bars. You don't stand a chance out there–" she caught the stare of Rodriguez, who was signaling her like crazy, her eyes almost bulging out as she nodded towards Oriana.

Jack snapped her back towards the girl, starting to feel like she was at a tennis match. Oriana's eyes were dangerously fogging up as she turned away quickly to leave.

"Fucking hell," Jack hissed through gritted teeth, and the rubble she was sitting on was getting more and more uncomfortable, prickling her skin through her pants.

"We will be fine, ma'am," Bellarmine said quietly and the four of them exchanged glances before they all looked back at Jack.

"We'll stay out of trouble and help with the wounded or cleaning up rubble, mowing the lawn and planting flowers or something," Hanson said. They all nodded.

"You should go find her," Rodriguez added pointedly. If Jack didn't know better, she could have sworn she was being reproached by her students. She was keenly aware that Rodriguez didn't say _help_ Oriana.

"Come on, ma'am. It's your, uh, you know…" Prangley mumbled.

"Girlfriend," Rodriguez said sternly.

"All right, fucking all right!" Jack snapped, rolling her eyes and lifting her arms up. "I'm fucking going. But if you get yourself killed–"

"You'll rip us a new one, ma'am. We know," Prangley said with a grin.

"Don't be a smartass!" Jack warned, and stared at them with a look of genuine concern before turning away. After only one step she stopped and looked back again, but this time it was with a smirk and a grateful nod.

Then she just spun around and hurried after Oriana.

"That was her girlfriend's _sister_ _?"_ she heard Prangley's incredulous voice as he asked the others, probably louder than he should have.

Jack caught up with Oriana a few hundred yards down the road towards the airfield comms center. In the space of those few seconds she allowed herself the luxury of feeling just a little bit relieved. She would have hated to just drop everything and leave her kids to fend for themselves, just to chase down her… she didn't even know what Miranda was to her any more. But whatever she felt for her, she owed it to both of them, if not to Oriana to get to the bottom of this. After all, apparently Miranda thought Oriana would be safe with her.

That Cerberus cheerleader was a smart bitch. She knew Oriana was closer in age to her students, hell, to Jack herself, and she probably banked on Jack's newfound motherly instincts. Fuck it, she probably sent Oriana to her to provide protection, and she wouldn't want them to look for her. She knew she wouldn't get out of this one alive. Jack wondered which one of them got the better deal.

"Hey! Uh, Oriana! Wait," she called after the girl. She didn't slow down. Of course. She did inherit at least some of that damned Lawson pride.

"What do you want?" Oriana said, wiping her cheeks hurriedly with the sleeve of her jacket.

"Listen, you're right. You won't get anywhere alone."

"You suck at pep talks."

Jack snorted. "You don't know the half of it."

She finally reached her and stepped in front of her to make her stop.

"Look," she sighed, putting her left hand on the girl's shoulder. Her right hand was still a bit numb and throbbing. She forced herself to look into Oriana's eyes. "She didn't send you to me for pep talks, you know that, right?"

Oriana stopped, taking a quick glance at the tattooed arm before looking into her eyes. She sighed, and suddenly she looked older and more tired than a few seconds before. It was unnerving, how she resembled her sister at that moment.

"I know, Jack. I just–I just need to know what happened."

Jack nodded in understanding.

"But you have to know that the chances of even finding her– uh, finding her are very slim. You don't even know where to start."

"I do."

"Oh, really?" Jack blinked in surprise.

Oriana smiled back at her bitterly.

"I have her ship's IFF transponder code. She flew her fighter somewhere over London. I just need to access the flight control terminals."

"Whoa," Jack muttered, staring into space thoughtfully. She tried very hard not to raise her own hopes, but she couldn't help it. She felt her pulse quickening again. "That is actually clever–"

They both laughed at that nervously.

"Of course," Jack nodded with a smirk. "She thought of everything."

"That she did."

They looked at each other for a long second, Jack searching the girl's face, then she narrowed her eyes.

"So you want to access her flight path and see what happened to her fighter."

Oriana nodded solemnly, pressing her lips thin in determination. There it was again. Hope and despair at the same time.

"Okay, kid, I hear you," Jack said, looking back over her shoulder towards the airfields comms center. "I'll get you in. Just leave the talking to me, all right?"

"Okay."

"Okay," Jack said again, giving her one more glance and then she nodded behind her. "Come on."

They started to walk towards the buildings in silence. Jack didn't know what to say and how to talk to this strange girl, and Oriana was probably too lost in thoughts to bother. Jack's 103rd insignia that she patched onto her jacket got them through the checkpoints without so much as a glance. It probably also helped that it looked like she was escorting a Crucible staff member. Oriana did get a few respectful glances from the people they passed.

At the comms center, the guards were more alert though, and also higher in rank. Technically they could refuse them entrance. A sergeant stopped them at the door. They were either down on manpower, or this installation was really this important that a sergeant was guarding it.

"I can't let you through," he explained to Jack.

"Listen, man, I'm with the 103rd marines, and need to find and extract a VIP that went missing over London. Help us out here, will ya?" She nodded towards Oriana like it somehow explained why they should be allowed to pass through.

It looked like it was working. The sergeant shot a glance at the tidy and stern-looking Oriana and pondered his options. He looked just as battered and exhausted as the rest of them, and he didn't seem to be in the mood to go by the book when Earth was still smoldering.

"Wait here," he grumbled and stepped inside, looking for the officer in charge, no doubt.

Through the door Jack watched him approach a major, who was standing behind a few dispatchers. He listened to the guard without looking up at the sergeant's brief explanation, prompted by a nod towards the door. The major glanced at them and frowned, following the guard back to the door.

Jack rolled her eyes, taking a deep breath and getting ready for an argument, pulling herself straight.

"We are quite busy here… miss, and we have a lot of VIPs missing," the major, Hardwicke, according to his nametag, said without any greetings or introductions. He must have seen Jack's unit insignia but no rank on her shoulders, so he was not obliged to salute, or be overly polite for that matter. Even Oriana was considered a civilian here. Jack never understood this pissing contest between the different branches. "We can't spare resources for a search and rescue, and my dispatchers are already too busy directing the essential air traffic."

"We just need a terminal to check the logs. We'll handle the rest," Jack offered. Her time with the 103rd started to rub off on her, getting all business-like.

Hardwicke eyed them curiously, his gaze stopping on Oriana, who stood behind Jack with a stern expression. He noticed her uniform, too, and nodded towards her.

"All my men are busy. Can you operate a flight control terminal?"

"Yes," Oriana replied instantly.

Jack tried to keep her face straight and not smirk at the girl's quick and calm answer. She was wondering if Oriana was bluffing.

"Come with me," Hardwicke said, dismissing the guard with another short nod and started walking along the lines of terminals.

"I thought you were on the Crucible science team," Jack whispered to Oriana as they followed the man.

"I was."

"But isn't flight control like a full course at the Air Force?"

"I learned it on the shuttle ride to Earth," Oriana said like it was the most trivial thing in the world, not even looking at Jack, just keeping up with the man.

Jack rolled her eyes. "Of course you did," she mumbled to herself.

They reached a terminal with a weary-looking young man. Hardwicke tapped his shoulder.

"Take five, Garvey," he said quietly and turned to Jack while the kid shuffled out of his seat. "You've got four minutes."

Oriana slipped into the chair as soon as it was empty, the two airmen watching just as curiously as Jack, who tried to act nonchalantly. The girl called up the ID dialogue and started to type furiously.

"You memorized an IFF transponder code?" Garvey mumbled.

"It's faster this way," Oriana replied keeping her eye on the progress bar as it searched the central database. Jack tried not to snort.

A map popped up, showing London in the center and numbers and lines started to appear, highlighting one that Oriana needed: the flight path of Miranda's fighter. Telemetry numbers were rushing in one panel on the side of the screen, blips and highlights appearing all over the fighter's trajectory. The flight controller, who was supposed to take a break and Major Hardwicke were watching just as curiously as Jack did.

"Whoa, it's one of the Recon Special Group jets," Garvey mumbled.

"What's that?" Jack asked, turning towards the kid. There was only so much technobabble and bluffing that she could take.

"I thought you knew who you are looking for," Hardwicke interjected suspiciously.

Jack shrugged. "Hey. I'm just the muscle. She's the expert," she pointed her thumb towards Oriana.

"RSGs were running counter-jamming during the battle. They flew a pattern to neutralize the Reaper's signal scrambling so that we could see and coordinate our planes," Garvey explained quickly. "They were our eyes in the sky."

"Got it!" Oriana exclaimed pointing to a blinking dot somewhere southwest of London. She zoomed in.

"Oh. He crashed," Garvey muttered, sounding almost disappointed.

Jack stared at the display, feeling that unpleasant squeeze in her chest.

"Talk to me, Oriana," she grumbled, tapping the girl's shoulder to shake her out of her surprise.

"Uh, it went down," she mumbled, moving a dial to rewind the time in small steps.

"There," Garvey pointed to another blinking dot. "Collision."

Jack grimaced. "Fucking peachy."

Oriana tapped the screen.

"What's that?" she pointed to the other dot at the impact. "There is no ID."

Garvey leaned closer and squinted. "Uh, that's a Harvester. See the irregular shape? That's because the wings ghost the radar image."

Oriana nodded, pulling her hand away, and Jack could see she was trembling. Jack put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

The flight controller looked at Oriana curiously, sensing her despair, his exhausted features softening. The younger Lawson sister seemed to have this effect on people.

"I'm sorry," Hardwicke said, more out of politeness than genuine empathy.

Jack took a deep breath, hiding her own disappointment and was ready to thank them for their help when Garvey spoke again.

"Wait! Rewind at twenty percent–"

Oriana tapped the controls in a haze, blinking rapidly to hold back her tears.

"There! See?"

The blip of Miranda's fighter changed color and a short code popped up over it.

"Emergency Eject– She got out!" Oriana whispered.

Everybody fell silent for a second, calculating the odds. Surprisingly, Jack found her gathering her wits about the fastest.

"Can you find out which unit was on the ground there?" she pointed to the area where the EE symbol was flashing.

"Uh, that's Sutton," Garvey said. "You can check with your unit commanders. We only deal with aerial units."

Oriana was still staring at the blinking dot, almost hypnotized. Jack squeezed her shoulder again. "What do you say, Oriana?" she asked quietly.

"Hmm? Oh," the girl said, quickly shutting down the pop-ups and returning it to the main screen. She looked up at Jack, clearly distracted. "It's a start."

Jack nodded, turning towards Major Hardwicke.

"I think we're done, major. Thank you for your help."

Hardwicke hummed.

"You can't get there by air, though. All non-essential air traffic is suspended. We've still got these damn beasts everywhere, and relief units are still coming in."

"Then we'll take a car," Jack said as Oriana stood up, typing on her omnitool.

They started to file out of the control center, the major and Garvey behind them.

"You really think you'll find her there?" Garvey called after them.

Jack didn't have an answer, and she didn't want to get into a sentimental argument so she just kept on walking, keeping a hand on Oriana's shoulder and leading her out so she could not turn back and confront the poor guy.

She did turn back once they were outside and nodded to Hardwicke, who escorted them out and offered a hand to the major.

"Thanks for the help."

"Good luck," the major said, shaking her hand. He still didn't seem convinced that this could be a successful rescue mission, but he understood camaraderie.

Oriana was waiting for her a few yards away, the worry and desperation etching creases into her soft features. It almost bothered Jack to see the girl this way.

"Come on, kid. Let's get some supplies and a ride," she said, jerking her head towards the tents. "I couldn't lift a pebble with my biotics. I need some serious juice and something to eat."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

As they walked across the tarmac, Jack started to realize that she hadn't slept for more than twenty four hours, and that buzzing headache that was building up in the back of her skull was a serious reminder that while she made damn sure that her kids drank their energy drinks and got to eat something, she completely forgot about herself.

Once they reached the supplies tent it was enough for Jack to flash her biotic unit ID and the commissary officer nodded without even making a face and went back to the shelves to put together rations for her. For the first time in her life, since joining the Academy and later the war effort, she didn't get sideways glances or snide remarks for being a biotic, and even got a bit of a special treatment. These guys on the ground knew how useful support biotics could be on the battlefield and respected those that covered their asses. It felt nice not to be discriminated for a change.

The four bottles of isotonic drinks and a box of twelve energy bars that the commissary officer brought her however, were far from enough for her needs. It was barely enough to get her back to almost normal.

"Come on, man, give me a break," she said to the officer. "That'll hardly get my batteries charged."

"Sorry, ma'am, this is the sanctioned quota for biotics. We are low on supplies," he explained patiently. Jack suspected the guy heard this argument a dozen times already today.

"Look, I need to extract a VIP from the no man's land. She's also a biotic. At least give me her rations."

The officer shook his head.

"Unless you have her ID and it's still active, I can't help you."

Being a teacher and then a war asset meant that Jack had to dial down her style a bit to get along with all the uptight people that schools and the armed corps employed, but she was dry and exhausted and her head was throbbing and she had enough.

"Well, if I had her ID she would be here with me now, wouldn't she? And then I wouldn't have to fucking go and find her."

"Sorry, ma'am," was the only answer she got as the guy looked at her with a blank stare.

"Yeah, I bet you fucking are," Jack hissed, forgetting that Oriana was standing behind her, her blood pressure rising. "Who the fuck are you saving those rations for, anyway? It's not like every fucking biotic survived the night, right? So why don't you just give me one of those, huh?"

She heard Oriana gasp in surprise at her bluntness, and even the commissary officer's eyes flashed dangerously at that. He managed to keep his calm, though.

"How do you know your VIP is even alive? Maybe she wouldn't need it anyway," the guy said with a flat tone.

Jack snarled, balling her hand into a fist, trying to flare up her biotics, which only made her head throb more. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain to pass.

"All right. All right," she hissed, raking her brain. "Can I at least pick up one for my subordinates? He's been injured." She fired up her omnitool and flashed him her credentials that identified her as a biotic squad leader. "The one for Private J. Wallace," she added.

The commissary officer took a long, hard look at her ID and frowned.

"That's slightly irregular," he muttered, shooting a glance at Jack. "It is your responsibility to get this sorted out with your man. If he comes complaining, I have to report you."

"Duly fucking noted," Jack nodded. The commissary officer shrugged and stepped into the back to put together another pack.

Jack grabbed a satchel from the counter and started to stuff the bottles and energy bars into it. She shot a glance at Oriana, who was standing very quietly a few steps back and was looking back at her.

"What?" Jack asked grumpily.

Oriana just shook her head, but Jack was getting pretty good at reading kids her age. The girl was appalled at Jack's irreverence towards the dead, but she also appreciated Jack crossing some lines to help her find Miranda.

Jack smirked, turning back towards the counter when the officer brought her the other pack, which she promptly sunk into another satchel and passed it to Oriana. She neatly signed her name on the inventory form that the commissary officer held out for her and then they were out of there, Jack already gulping down half a bottle of isotonic drink.

"Wouldn't your man mind that you took his rations?"

Jack shrugged, passing a bottle to Oriana.

"A banshee tore him in half last night," she growled, throwing away her already empty bottle irritated, and started to storm off.

They sat down on some crates near the entrance of one of the smaller hangars, next to the jeeps and smaller army transports lined up next to it. Jack was devouring her rations at an insane rate, her eyes darting around, watching the comings and goings like a lioness searching for her next prey.

Oriana kept quiet for a while, giving Jack time to calm down, which seemed to happen proportionally with her food and drink consumption.

"What's next?" she asked after what she calculated as a safe amount of time.

Jack shot a glance at the jeeps parking next to them.

"We'll take one of these," she nodded with a grin.

"You can just take it?"

"Normally I would have to have a requisition order. But since searching for your sister is not official business…" Jack shrugged nonchalantly.

"Won't they miss it?" Oriana observed casually. There was no outrage or surprise in her voice, just curiousity.

"Like I give a fuck…" Jack grinned and looked around, squinting.

The cloud cover was steadily looming over the greater London area. It seemed to be lower than before, heavy with the promise of rain. She had to check her omnitool to get the time and realized that it was still only early afternoon. Almost thirty hours without sleep…

While she watched for the traffic to ebb, rubbing her temple occasionally, and letting the people get used to them sitting there, she fired up her omnitool and tapped in a call.

Prangley's voice popped in after a little static.

"Yes ma'am? Everything all right? How is your search?"

Jack grimaced, nodding impatiently.

"Yeah, still working on it. Listen, Prangley, I need you to find out which unit held the Sutton area last night and where are they now."

"Sutton, ma'am?"

"Yes. Uh, she punched out over Sutton before her fighter crashed. Somebody might have picked her up."

"Got it, ma'am," came the swift reply and then some shuffling.

"Thanks, Prangley. And get back to me fast. We'll get out of here soon, and these damn things have a crappy reception range."

"Roger that. I'll ask the lieutenant and let you know."

"Thanks Prangley…" Jack paused for a second, looking around again. "Everything all right over there?"

"You know you've only been gone for, like, fifty minutes, right?"

"Don't be a smartass, Prangley."

The kid chuckled. "We're fine, we're just hanging out and start looking for a place to sleep tonight. We'll let you know."

Jack grunted something in response and cut the feed. She glanced at Oriana, who just finished eating and was looking out over the chaos of the base, cars and people hurrying, planes swooshing above them, taking off or landing not so far away from them against the backdrop of columns of smoke in the distance, where fires were probably still burning and the battle was still going on. Jack followed her gaze and got caught up in the moment. They could only imagine the scope of the damage from here.

Oriana seemed to be calm enough, not hovering constantly around Jack and asking questions or whine and worry about why they are not moving, and how every minute counted. Jack could appreciate that. Then again, no matter how young and emotional Oriana was, she was still a Lawson, and if she had the brain to help out with the Crucible at all, she was apparently reasonable enough to keep her emotions in check.

Jack waited until the next batch of random traffic passed by before jumping into one of the jeeps. While Oriana walked around and sat next to her, she tapped furiously on her omnitool, calling up command panels until she accessed the jeep's onboard computer and overrode the security settings.

The engine whirred to life and Jack looked up grinning at an unimpressed Oriana.

"What?"

Oriana shrugged.

"Well, let's hope we get where we want to be before they come after us," she muttered.

Jack shrugged and got the car moving, rolling slowly along the hangars and barracks until they left the staging area and got out onto the country roads.

She glanced at Oriana and was about to say something to occupy her, but apparently it was unnecessary.

"I doubt we have working GPS satellites, but the navigator's map should still work," Oriana said, pulling the jeep's navigation console to her seat. She tapped on it to open the map and find their location, and the fastest way to Sutton.

"Uh, good thinking," Jack nodded, wondering for a second if she should be annoyed or relieved with the girl taking the initiative. She tried to teach her kids to think for themselves, come up with solutions, which they kinda did, but being a few years younger than Oriana and also almost worshipping Jack, they were a mixed bag of goofy and clever.

It was almost uncanny how easily Oriana could switch between being this cute, open-faced and smart girl, and channeling her older sister in the next second. She was still nice, but suddenly all business and cold and calculating. Jack kept her eyes on the road but she found herself glancing at the girl every now and then.

She could not shake the feeling that she was looking at what could have been if Miranda could live her own life instead of—whatever she had. It made her squirm in her seat. She almost scoffed at the thought that _this_ Miranda would have been _even more_ out of her league.

She shook her head and focused on the road ahead, making their way past office blocks and suburban homes, and hedges. Lots of hedges.

"Got it! We were at Gatwick," Oriana said after a minute, looking back and forth between the road and the intersections they were passing, and the map on her screen. "I have a route plan, we could be there in thirty– whoa…!"

They crested a hill, and the scenery opened up in front of them, giving them a view of the city to the north, as much as the haze and the smoke allowed them to see. Jack stopped the car and they both stared aghast at the devastation, standing up in their seats to look over the windscreen. "Fuck me…" she whispered.

Oriana shot her a curious glance.

"Weren't you… you know… in there?" she nodded towards the smoke and ruins as far as the eye could see.

Jack shook her head. "I haven't seen it in daylight…" she stared out over the panorama of devastation, a thoughtful expression on her face. "When you're… _in there_ … you just focus on up close, where the attack can come from. At night, you can only see the glow of the fires in the distance and you can't tell how far or how bad…"

She realized Oriana was watching her seriously, ignoring the view for now. Jack gave her a sideways glance and grimaced, but before she could come up with a snarky remark to put her off, her omnitool buzzed. Relieved, she tapped the call and Prangley's voice came up, crackling with static, barely audible at this range.

"I found out what you needed. The 82nd armored infantry was moving out from Sutton last night. The lieutenant says that after the Crucible… did it's thing, that's where they fell back to. They should still be there…"

"Thanks, Prangley."

"One more thing… according to the latest news, that is the last safe port on the frontlines. Anything north of that is no man's land and not under our control."

Oriana was tapping the map, zooming out to get her bearings.

"That's basically all of London…" she muttered.

Jack could see that the girl was starting to properly worry, the view and the info sinking in. Still, she could not bring herself to give the Oriana fake comfort.

"Thanks. You kids dig in for the night and no booze, got it?" Jack warned.

"...can't… hear… breaking… up…" Prangley replied adding some static noise before cutting off.

Jack chuckled, sitting back down into the driver's seat, and shook her head. Glancing at Oriana she could see that the younger Lawson sister was still not amused, so Jack just let out a quiet grunt and started the car up again.

The mood, however, remained foul as the road wound down from the hill and snaked north towards the outskirts of London. It was impossible to avoid looking at the sights of destruction, and not just the burning ruins downtown, but the deserted roads, abandoned cars, distended gardens and empty homes they passed. What used to be a lively neighborhood was a ghost town, only a few scavengers shambling on the streets, and a military plane whooshing over their heads now and then.

They were both silent for a few minutes, Oriana staring ahead, Jack splitting her attention between the road and the glimpses of London burning. It looked post-apocalyptic now, almost serene in its own way, but Jack well remembered the chaos and madness on the ground during the assault. She snorted and shook her head.

"I can't believe she flew into that…"

Oriana turned her head towards Jack, leaning against the door as she looked her over, raising an eyebrow.

Jack grimaced and shook her head. She wondered if she would ever get used to these tiny gestures that made Oriana suddenly channel her sister.

"I mean, it's practically suicide–" she blurted out before she could stop herself. "Fuck. I mean, it's insane! She's not even a pilot!"

"She is actually a pretty good one," Oriana said with a quiet sullenness.

"But she's not a fighter pilot, for fuck's sake!" Jack exclaimed, slamming the steering wheel. "Air combat is totally different. What the fuck was she thinking?"

Jack realized that she was almost pleading, her anger turning into exasperation. The more she thought about the battle and the more she saw what was left after it, the more hopeless their quest seemed. She shot a glance at Oriana, hoping to convey her frustration and soften her outburst a bit with a gesture of concern or something.

Oriana was having none of it. She had her arms folded across her chest and glared daggers at Jack.

"What was she supposed to do? Sit this one out?"

"No, of course not, but fucking–"

"Fucking what, Jack? While you were teaching kids, she was on the run from… well, technically your bosses, too."

Jack was taken aback by her sudden outburst, waving her hand impatiently to stop this argument before it went further.

"Don't you think I'm aware of that…?" she started, but there was no stopping Oriana now.

"I'm sure you are. And I understand you were busy. You got to fight with the 103rd, while the best she could achieve with the Alliance is not getting arrested."

The girl was fuming and Jack almost recoiled from the defiance that radiated from her. She was also getting riled up. Thirty hours and a hellish battle does that to a person.

"That does not fucking mean–"

"She was sidelined, Jack!" Oriana cut her off. "She was–" she smirked, pouting her lips bitterly. "A valuable asset. She could have helped. And what did she get? They politely looked away while she got herself a few ships and a crew and raided Cerberus on her own."

Jack smirked. She remembered that conversation they had, about tables turned. She didn't seem to mind her situation, and maybe she was atoning for her past, but apparently Oriana felt very strongly about the unfairness. She was too young to know better, Jack thought.

"She did the best she could," Oriana said quietly. "She almost had to beg the Air Force to let her help them. It was her team that put together the scrambling countermeasures, from the data she got from the raids." Oriana waved a hand almost dismissively and looked away from Jack, staring out at the window into the distance again. "Whatever. She was just flying recon and staying above the fray. She's not stupid enough to wade into air combat. The point is that she shouldn't have been up there last night. She should have been with Shepard… or in a command center somewhere. So, yeah, Jack, I don't know what the fuck was she thinking."

"Geez, Miranda, calm your tits down! I didn't know! I am just–" Jack fell quiet suddenly, and both of them froze in their seats. Jack avoided looking at Oriana now, focusing intently on the road. "Fuck…" she whispered with a grimace after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"You just what, Jack?" Oriana asked very quietly.

Jack sighed in resignation and rolled her eyes.

"You're preaching to the choir, kid," she grumbled. "And starting to piss me off, really. While you were up there in your comfy labs churning data or whatever the fuck you were doing, we were getting the living shit kicked out of us. I saw my students fucking mauled and killed, so don't fucking come to me with who got it worse–"

"I know. And I am not. It's not a competition, Jack," Oriana said very calmly.

"Jesus fucking Christ, kid," Jack sighed. She had to shake her head and blink rapidly a few times as her eyes were starting to fog up. They were on the clock but she had to pull over. Actually, she just stopped in the middle of the deserted road and gripped the steering wheel tightly,eyes squeezed shut, breathing deep to calm herself down. "That's what she said to me once, you know."

Oriana did not reply. They sat there quietly for a few seconds until Jack trusted herself enough to open her eyes and look at her. The girl was struggling with her tears, trying to stay calm. The effect was making Jack dizzy. It was like double vision, her presence constantly switching between the kid sister and the weary woman who looked over her for half of her life.

"My sister is probably dead. I just want to know."

"I didn't fucking know, okay?" Jack said quietly. "I was just frustrated, too, you know? I… I don't know if she is alive or dead, but I just didn't want it to end this way, you know? You are right. She shouldn't have been up there. That's why I'm mad. And because she didn't tell me."

Oriana glared at her for a few more heartbeats, a bit more collected, but a few teardrops did roll down her cheeks. Her eyes were clear, though, and searching Jack's face.

"Why didn't she tell you?" she asked quietly.

Jack understood. "She didn't want me to worry, I guess." She looked out over the road ahead of them, still ten minutes from Sutton. "I mean, we kinda agreed that maybe it's better if we didn't… shit, I don't know, okay? It sounded reasonable at that time."

"What, Jack?"

Jack shrugged with a painful expression, less and less certain as she continued to speak.

"Well, it just seemed sensible not to get too attached to each other in case… you know."

"You broke up?" Oriana gasped, staring at her incredulously.

"Yes… fuck, no… Jesus, kid, I'm not even sure we were together, you know… I mean, sure, the sex was insanely great and we actually did talk about… stuff. It was just like: why try to take it to the next level if the shitstorm's coming. It's distracting, you know, to worry about someone in the middle of… that," Jack nodded towards the burning London.

"Oh, my god," Oriana groaned, but it sounded more like annoyance than shock or desperation.

"What?" Jack shot back defensively. "This way if one of us didn't make it, the other still had a chance of… fucking getting on with their life, or some shit."

Oriana let out an almost derisive laugh.

"Yeah? How is that working out for you?"

Jack rolled her eyes and turned her attention back towards the road and started the car again.

"Fuck you, kid."

Oriana just laughed, not taking Jack's tone to heart.

"I swear to God, I don't know which one of you is a bigger idiot," the girl said amused, checking the map and the road. It seemed like she was done with her part of the conversation. Jack scoffed and shot her an annoyed glance.

"And now you're gonna share your life's wisdom and give me relationship advice?"

Oriana shrugged, watching the road as they reached the town, and people started to appear, civilians and a lot of military, trucks, cars, people filing with their small belongings, and a checkpoint approaching.

"I could," she said matter-of-factly. "But it would take hours," she said, then nodded towards the checkpoint. "But now it's your turn."

Jack was about to say something, insist on hearing this—child's opinion about the complicated issues of relationships, her naive, smartass comments. She almost pulled over just to let her stew a bit, but it was getting late.

The soldier at the checkpoint waved them down, stepping next to Jack.

"103rd Marines, Biotic Squad. We're stationed in Gatwick," she said, flicking the guard a salute, and then nodded at Oriana casually to include her in her next statement. "We're looking for the 82nd Armored Infantry Battalion."

"I have no info on your itinerary. Where are your orders?" the corporal asked nonchalantly, checking his datapad.

Jack sighed in frustration, rolling her shoulders just to calm herself down. She hated this part of the military.

"Listen, we didn't have time for orders, okay? A VIP went down around here last night, the head of the Recon Special Group. The boys at the 82nd might have picked her up. We just need to know what happened to her and report back to base, all right?"

The corporal looked over them once more, noting the signs on Jack's jacket and Oriana's uniform with the Crucible Team insignia. Jack could see that he was going over the options in his mind, one of which was, whether this tattooed woman was with the 103rd at all. He glanced at Oriana, who must have looked decent and serious enough, and her uniform was not something that can be stolen or faked easily. Jack saw him softening up, so she moved in for the kill.

"Look, man. We both went through the grinder last night. Hell, I lost half of my kids out there. I'm just hoping to find at least one of ours alive, okay?"

That did it, the corporal sighed and waved them forward. "The 82nd set up command center near the town hall. You can't miss it."

"Thanks, man."

"Good luck."

Jack nodded sternly and drove off, letting out an exhausted sigh, shaking her head to clear her mind. She forgot about Oriana for a while, and the girl was observant enough to give Jack some time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

They had to stop a few blocks down from the town hall, the streets getting too busy with people and vehicles and narrow, some of them blocked by debris or trucks. They reluctantly stepped out of the jeep and made their way to the command post. The damage here was nothing new to Jack, it was just less ghastly in the early afternoon light. Although the clouds did lend a brooding mood to battered and bruised soldiers resting wherever they could in small groups, some injured who could move around joining them. Others were running errands or carrying equipment for storage, or sorting out damaged weapons, armor and gear. In one corner of the town square some officers were huddled together around the hood of a car and discussing something, pointing at the map and then waving in one direction or another, nodding sternly.

They drew a few curious, but mostly tired glances from the troops while they crossed the square.

"Are they staring at your tattoos, or is it my uniform?" Oriana asked quietly.

"Probably both. We should have had you roll around in one of the ditches so you wouldn't look so squeaky clean," Jack muttered.

As they walked across the ancient, busy town square, Jack decided to take advantage of the looks they got.

"82nd? 82nd Infantry? Do you know where they are?" she started asking the soldiers they passed by. Some of them just shrugged, the others pointed, and they followed the trail to a fountain in one small plaza in the corner, where a bunch of battered and exhausted soldiers were sitting around, their armour scattered at their feet where they dropped them.

Jack surveyed the faces, trying to decide where to start, but as they approached, a couple of men started nudging each other and point in their direction, whispering. She walked up to them and she could see their expression going from recognition to confused frowns and baffled glances at each other.

"It looks like you saw a ghost," Jack said with a smirk.

One of the infantrymen, a corporal Paxton by his nametag, scoffed and shrugged, checking out Jack's insignia carefully before replying.

"It's just that your… friend looked familiar for a second," he said.

"Yeah, it fucking freaks me out," added one of the privates sitting next to him.

Jack and Oriana glanced at each other, and the biotic could see the hope and despair flash through the girl's features. She quickly turned towards the corporal and spoke again.

"So why don't you tell me what happened to her?"

The men started shuffling in their seats, glancing at each other and looking at Jack with growing suspicion. The corporal winced.

"How… who are you talking about?" he asked suspiciously, and Jack couldn't blame him. Normally she would have enjoyed making the guys more miserable, but she was on the clock and Oriana wouldn't have appreciated her antics.

"I'm talking about her sister," she nodded towards Oriana. "I take it you met her last night?"

The infantrymen looked at each other again, their surprise turning into relief as the penny dropped and things started to make sense.

"Uh, yes, last night. She dropped right on top of us…"

"... like a fucking angel, I swear to god…" another soldier injected with a nervous laugh.

"... but we haven't seen her since… uh, since the evac."

Oriana stepped closer and looked back and forth between the men, her anxiety obvious even to Jack, who didn't even had to look at her to know. The biotic just reached out to put a calming hand on the girl's arm, while raising her other to halt the torrent of comments from the infantrymen.

"Start at the beginning."

The men quickly glanced at each other and somehow decided that Paxton will continue speaking for them.

"Well, our orders were to set up positions just inside London Proper and provide cover for the Hammer team landing with our APCs and IPVs. We got jumped by husks and a couple of brutes, with a fucking harvester coming down on us. They zeroed in on us when we cleared the area for the Hammer Kodiaks. We ended up pinned down five clicks north of here, close to the City. There was this fucking harvester circling above us, while we were surrounded by the rest of the creeps. We were pretty fucked."

"And then suddenly, BAM! A fighter crashes into the harvester and they go down," another one of them added enthusiastically.

"Actually, one of the engines on the jet was already on fire when it hit," a third infantryman added quietly. "Now that I think if it, she may have clipped the beast on purpose, since her fighter was already damaged."

"Yeah… right…" Paxton glanced at him, trying to return to his accounts. "So anyway, then we see a parachute, but it's coming in too fast. We figure it's the pilot, and that his chute won't open."

"So what? She crashed? Broke her legs? Or what?"

"No, no, no… It was the most amazing thing. She spiraled into the fire zone and blasted out a biotic… whatever, thing, that swept away half of the husks storming us, and she rolled it out. I mean, literally, she landed like a fucking glowing blue acrobat and already had her gun in her hand when she stopped."

"Man, I wanted to marry her right there…"

Jack smirked and was ready to quip back, but Oriana was faster.

"So she was fine," the girl interjected impatiently. The men fell silent for a second to glance at her, the first time she spoke. It seemed to unnerve them.

"Yes, she was fine," Paxton nodded.

"Then where is she?"

"I don't know," the man shrugged, Oriana's tone putting him on the defensive. "It's not that simple, okay. We got separated and then…" he stopped, spreading his arms wide with an uncertain gesture.

Jack sighed, glancing at Oriana. The girl was remarkably calm up until now, but it was obvious she was starting to lose her composure.

"Walk me through it, please," Jack said patiently.

"Yeah, okay," Paxton nodded, taking a deep breath and glancing at his comrades for confirmation. "So we regrouped and patched up our defenses. We started clearing out blocks and set up a rally point. Most of our vehicles were busted or out of ammo. The chick was pretty good as support. Efficient, and helped with the salvage."

"You know, I don't even remember her name."

"I think she told the captain. Did you see her gear? She wasn't military. Must have been a private contractor."

Jack and Oriana glared at them impatiently, which prompted Paxton to clear his throat and continue.

"That's when we found the civilians- It was one of the civil shelters in the area, some rustic hotel with basements and reasonable defense facilities. There wasn't enough time to evacuate everyone before the final push started, so shelters like these were designated around the city."

"What happened next?" Jack nodded, encouraging them to go on.

"Well, we cleared that zone. We couldn't push forward, we didn't have enough men for that."

"We were almost wiped out as it was…" the private chimed in again, waving around. If this was all that was left of the 82nd, he wasn't just fishing for sympathy.

"Yeah. So we dug in and established a fallback and regroup point. I mean, what were we supposed to do?" Paxton continued.

"Something obviously went wrong," Jack said as she watched the men going on the defensive again. "Look, guys. I'm sure as hell won't judge you for not doing what you were supposed to do and waltz into certain death for nothing. Just tell me how you fucking lost her, okay?"

The infantrymen fell silent again, conferring with those silent glances again. Corporal Paxton took a deep breath and went on.

"Well, the sentry we posted on top of the hotel reported that all hell was breaking loose in the city, and a lot of those fucking husks started to get pushed out, right towards us. So while the order was to push forward at all costs, we asked permission to fall back with the civilians," Paxton picked up, more matter-of-factly now, slowly getting the feeling that Jack and Oriana were not here to bite their head off for losing a VIP.

"Yeah, I mean, it was not like we could contribute to the battle. Our APCs and IPVs were pretty much useless," added the private again.

"Your… uh, sister helped us convince Battle Command to let us pull out with the civvies and regroup and rearm," Paxton said, nodding to Oriana. "We planned to put the civilians into the APCs and whisk them out of there, but the fucking husks were fast, and there was at least a banshee with them. By the time we crammed the civvies into the trucks, we were surrounded again. The captain split up the team into three groups: Alpha Team were the vehicles with the injured and civilians, Bravo were the rest of the civvies who couldn't fit in and the men to escort them, and Charlie was the strike team that distracted the husks until the other two were safe."

"I'm guessing my sister was not in the APCs," Oriana said ominously.

"Uh, no. She stayed back with the strike team."

"But she's not even military!"

"She was in a fighter jet, miss, and she could kick ass with the best of us, pardon me for saying. She was tactical and most importantly, a fucking good biotic. She volunteered to stay with the strike team."

"Why?!"

Paxton paused, eyeing the two women and his gaze landed on Jack.

"You are a biotic, right?" he nodded towards her insignia.

"Yeah."

"So you know how the husks react to biotics. Especially those fucking banshee bitches."

"They are drawn to it…"

"Exactly. Your friend or whatever, she was the bait."

"What the hell…" Jack murmured, although she already knew why they did it.

"The captain sent four of his men with her. They created a diversion on one side of the hotel, drawing the heat while we broke out on the other end."

"So basically it was a suicide mission," Oriana said in an accusing tone.

Jack couldn't help but chuckle.

"Heh, yeah, she has a habit of getting into those. Shepard was a bad influence on her."

This got Paxton's and his men's attention.

"What? Your friend knew Shepard?" the private asked with renewed interest, glancing back and forth between them.

Jack rolled her eyes. This was not the time for bragging and anecdotes.

"Yeah, they fought with him against the Collectors," Oriana said, before Jack could dismiss the story. She shot a disapproving glance at the girl, but she held the gaze and just nodded curtly, signaling Jack to go with it.

"You too?!" Paxton blurted out.

"Long story. Maybe next time," she grumbled reluctantly. "So what the fuck was your captain's plan? He sacrificed his strike team to get the rest of you to safety?"

Paxton and his team were suddenly more responsive.

"Well, the captain was not stupid. The plan was to hold the fuckers off and draw their attention to them until we're scot free, and then lure them inside the hotel and blow them the fuck up."

"I thought you ran out of the heavy stuff."

"We did. But the hotel had a huge fucking tank of gasoline in their basement for heating and emergency generators."

That made sense, Jack nodded to herself.

"Sounds like a plan," she said approvingly, although a fresh kind of disquiet started to grip her chest. She already had the feeling where this was going. Still, she kept her cool so Oriana won't freak out more than she already did. It was a long fucking day. "Did they make it?"

Paxton shrugged uneasily. "Well, we saw a huge fucking explosion behind us when we were at a safe distance. It effectively cut off any further pursuit."

"And here we are," said the private.

"Yes, here you are," Jack muttered. "And your captain?"

"We haven't heard from him… or his team either."

Jack looked them over. "So is this it? Is this all of you who survived?"

The corporal shook his head. "We were with the APCs. Bravo Team came on foot. They were about an hour behind us. I think some of them stayed at the hospital with the wounded."

"I heard a few of them grabbed a jeep and drove back for the captain," one of the privates added. Another one snorted and shook his head grinning.

"Heh, that must have been sergeant Eames and his boys. They are fucking nuts."

Oriana didn't appreciate the enthusiasm though and stepped forward in that one moment when Jack wasn't listening. "Yeah, and you just hang out here and smoke away while your people might still be out there."

Jack grimaced, closing her eyes with an exhausted sigh. Everyone was tired, and irritated for their own reason. The corporal had enough of the interrogation and glared back at the Lawson sister.

"Listen… lady. I'm sure you had a scary day up there in space and whatnot, but we didn't have it easy down here either. What's left of the 82nd is not combat worthy. We've been relegated to support until we are folded into the 54th Mechanized, okay? We've been repairing and rearming our trucks and getting ready to move out again for the mop up. Our shift just ended and anyway, we also lost a lot of good men. Yes, your sister is one of them. She saved our asses out there more than once, so believe me, I'm just as sorry that she's gone, but I'll be damned if I let some techie chew me out for getting my ass kicked." Paxton paused for a breath, not finished yet. "Let's face it. If anybody from the strike team were alive, they would have been found by now. It's been more than twelve hours."

A heavy silence descended on the group. The infantrymen quietly nodded, standing by their corporal's words, but they mostly just looked tired and not that mad. Jack quickly looked them over with a squint and concluded that there won't be any trouble from them. She suddenly felt very tired, and she suspected that Paxton's last words were partly responsible. She sure as hell would have liked to have a bit of good news.

She shot a glance at Oriana from the corner of her eyes, noticing the girl turning red in embarrassment, but Jack was just too exhausted to handle the situation. Let the girl stew a bit.

"I know," Oriana said quietly. She was either fast to draw the conclusion or smart enough to know how to defuse the argument. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Paxton nodded begrudgingly.

Time to move on, Jack thought.

"So. If anybody else made it out alive, where would we find them?"

"Try the field hospital," the corporal nodded towards the buildings behind them. "It's at the edge of the town, they took over the football pitch. You can't miss it."

"Thanks," Jack nodded, shooting an appreciative glance to the men and she left, taking Oriana's arm and leading her away.

The girl seemed to be deflated a bit, and she got more and more reluctant as they walked down a street towards the small football field, slowing down and fidgeting with her omnitool. Once they were within sight of the building and saw the tents, white coats, the stretchers and the jeeps and vans with the red crosses on them, Oriana stopped completely. She seemed to be staring intently at the title above the gates: GANDER GREEN LANE and SUTTON UNITED FC under it.

"She won't be there," the girl declared.

"You sound awfully sure," Jack snorted.

"Mmm-hmm," Oriana shot a glance at Jack before turning her attention back towards the football pitch, her gaze so unfocused, that for a second, Jack wondered if the kid had psychic powers.

After a few heartbeats, Jack squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, scratching her arm in the sling. It was getting bothersome. "Are you afraid of what you'll find there?" she asked softly.

Oriana smiled softly and shook her head, leaning against a pile of rubble that once was a ticket kiosk. Her exhaustion was starting to show. She half-sat on a block of concrete and thoughtfully unwrapped a bar of food rations.

"She had plans for everything," she tapped her omnitool, keeping her gaze on the stadium. "If she was alive and close by, our omnitools would have synced up by now. If she's dead, she must have left something on her that would give a clue to others. I don't know." Oriana let out a long sigh before answering Jack's question. "I'm afraid of never finding out what happened to her."

They stood there, only a few hundred yards from the field hospital, and the seconds ticked by silently. It was already late afternoon, the lights getting paler as the sunlight filtered through low-hanging, grey clouds. Trucks rolled past, small groups of soldiers were coming and going. The whole town was regrouping, sorting gears, preparing to move out and clean the city of the remnant forces.

Gusts of wind made the columns of smoke swirl above the city and sometimes it was hard to separate where the smoke ended and where the clouds began. The distant rumbles were either explosions, as the fight was still going on around there, or thunders, promising a cleansing rain any time soon. It sounded like the tolling of a church bell, as if signaling Jack and Oriana that their time was up.

"Still," Jack muttered despite herself, half-arguing with the elements. "I mean, we've gotta make sure, right?"

"Jack. You've been… in there…" Oriana nodded towards the ruins of the city. "Could she… what are her odds...?" she asked quietly, looking at the biotic.

Jack tried not to cringe as she returned her gaze with a tired frown. She could almost see the girl's hope evaporating.

"I don't know, kid," Jack sighed, spreading her free arm in frustration. "I mean, maybe. There are a dozen scenarios. If they were not pinned down, and they could get clear of the blast radius– If she had enough juice to throw up a barrier–"

"I know all that, Jack. I mean, it's been more than half a day now. If she's out there…"

Jack didn't want to answer, but she didn't look away. Oriana sighed and Jack could see her becoming distant by the second. Jack knew this expression. It was the sign of giving up. Or letting go. She nodded grimly.

"She told me to come to you if everything else fails. I-I don't think she wanted us to find her."

Jack reluctantly nodded. "I don't think so, either."

Oriana looked at her and smiled exhaustedly. She put a gentle hand on Jack's sore shoulder.

"Thank you, Jack." Jack shuddered at the touch, staring at the hand on her shoulder for a long second. It felt so weird, gentle and warm. After merely a day, she almost forgot what it felt like. It was all bumps and bruises during the battle, diving into covers, leaning on each other, carrying injured, heavy, hard armor chafing and bruising, rolling on the concrete– It was never warm. And never soft. And Oriana almost looked like her sister.

Jack must have phased out a bit, because Oriana was already talking, and the biotic missed the first words.

"–will check with the hospital. Ask around."

Jack solemnly nodded. "Sure."

Oriana seemed a bit surprised at Jack's quick agreement.

"Do you want to meet back here? Say, in an hour?" the girl asked uncertainly.

"Yea– wait, what?" Jack shook her head and looked at Oriana with a dumb expression. "You want to go in there alone?"

Oriana nodded. "That's what I said."

"Oh," Jack frowned, rubbing her temple. It's been almost thirty six hours since she slept. It was getting harder to focus. "No, I can't… I mean, I'll go with you."

"I just need a little time, Jack. Alone."

Jack shook her head again. "You're still my responsibility," she blurted out, trying to focus on the girl.

Oriana smiled softly, tilting her head, and for a second there, she was her sister again.

"Don't do that," Jack grumbled.

"Do what?"

"Never mind," Jack waved impatiently. She ate and drank enough on their way to stay animated, but she was still too tired to argue and make a fuss about. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," the girl said and held Jack's gaze. She didn't need to say more, Jack could see it in her eyes. She needed closure. She needed to see for herself.

"Okay," Jack shrugged.

Oriana nodded and turned away, straightening her back and started walking.

"Hey," Jack called after her. She half-turned towards the biotic, raising a curious eyebrow. "What did you mean back there?" Jack nodded behind her, from where they came from. "When you said we were both idiots."

Oriana frowned as she tried to remember what Jack meant. It took her a few heartbeats and it made her smile and almost chuckle.

"Oh, yes."

"Well?"

"Tell me something, Jack. What would be your first thought if you saw my sister somewhere for the first time."

"That she's hot?" Oriana rolled her eyes. "All right. I'd think she's out of my league."

"Way."

Jack snorted. "Thanks, kid."

"Could you picture a couple like you two together?"

Jack had to admit that she couldn't. If she thought about it, Jack could see Miranda on the arm of a rich guy. But not some fancy manchild. Somebody smart. Powerful. Rich. Certainly not next to a bald, tattooed psycho bitch. As for herself, Jack never really imagined anybody with herself permanently. Maybe a mercenary on a job, or a partner in crime in some port, for the occasional rough-and-tumble.

"I get it, kid," she admitted in resignation. The fact that they were now talking about her in past tense and the thought of not seeing Miranda again started to make her chest hurt.

"Do you?" Oriana asked, her expression turning serious.

"The circumstances were not exactly typical–"

"I know."

"So what's your point?"

"Don't you understand?" Oriana exclaimed, slightly impatient. "You didn't let your looks define you. You both saw past that."

Jack reluctantly had to concede that this was also true. For different reasons, but both of them struggled with the prejudices their looks created, and were it not for Shepard and their crazy suicide mission, they would have never gotten past their looks, not to mention their differences. Because let's face it. On top of that, both of them were real bitches, and they knew it.

"Well, actually it started just like–" Jack started with a shrug, but Oriana cut her off, smiling sadly.

"I know. And yet, here we are."

Was it really Shepard's "fault"? Or was it really the two of them. The trick was not hooking up. It was staying together – however unconventional it was.

"You were an– unconventional couple," Oriana echoed her thoughts. It started to freak her out. This kid, barely twenty, and a girl who lived a sheltered life, seeing a fraction of what either of them saw in the Universe only this past year, was not only insightful, but was uncannily good at reading Jack's mind.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" the biotic grumbled, tapping her omnitool carefully on her slinged arm. She pinged Oriana's tool so they would sync up. "I'll find us a place to sleep."

Oriana nodded a "thank you" and turned away.

"Just don't stop and perform surgery on the injured, while you're in there."

Oriana smiled and shook her head.

"I'm certified to give first aid to four different species," Oriana replied back over her shoulder as she walked on.

"Of course you are," Jack smirked.

She watched the girl go, and rubbing her chest absently, where she felt this phantom pressure building up, she looked around. She was really starting to feel drained, and she just needed to take a little break and collect her thoughts.

She sat down on the same pile of rubble that Oriana sat on before, and rested her back against a piece of wall. She sighed, rubbing her arm absently, looking around at the soldiers coming and going. The pain dulled away to a manageable background annoyance, but it still felt a bit numb.

It was not just her arm, though. She clutched the second bag of untouched rations that she got for Miranda, predicting that her biotics were probably just as drained as hers were. She stared at it for a long time as the other kind of numbness started to fill her chest and her head.

Eyes unfocused she pondered if it was a pang of regret that they failed to sort things out with Miranda before the battle, or if she was still trying to figure out how to feel about the reality of having lost her. It might have been easier if Oriana weren't a walking reminder. She considered ditching the girl and going back to _iher/i_ kids.

Oriana was a big girl. She could take care of herself. But still. She should at least honor her sister's wishes and make sure Oriana was safe–

The rumble of a jeep coming to a sudden halt woke Jack from her sleep. She gasped and sat up suddenly, blinking in confusion. How much time had passed? Where was Oriana?

She felt her heart starting to race. She should have been looking for a place to sleep and staying on top of things, not dozing off next to a fucking busy hospital.

Jack looked around bewildered. It was still daytime, although it was hard to tell from the looming gray clouds. The horizon seemed lighter, a brownish red hue, which probably meant that the Sun will soon sink below the cloud cover. It would be spectacular, she pondered, the noises around her bringing her back to the present again.

The jeep, which screeched to a halt on the other side of her pile of rubble carried four men and a stretcher across the hood, with a badly injured, bloody soldier strapped onto it. The men were hurrying to unfasten the stretcher, speaking in tense, gruff half-sentences.

Jack slowly stood up and stretched, picking up her bags and blinking the sleep from her eyes, checking the time on her omnitool. She slept for almost forty-five minutes.

Two soldiers grabbed the handles on the stretcher and started marching off towards the football pitch, the other two behind them. As they passed Jack by, she could see that one of them was a sergeant, and they all wore the 82nd armoured infantry patches.

It took Jack a couple of seconds to process the information and jog after the rushing soldiers.

"Sergeant– uh, sergeant! Hey!" Jack yelled after them, trying to remember his name. The men didn't stop but the sergeant glanced back over his shoulder to acknowledge her call. As usual, he did a double take and took one more, longer look at her tattoos and face, not missing a beat in his stride. "I talked to corporal Paxton– Is this your captain?" Jack continued, falling in step next to the man, hoping she managed to cram enough clues into her words for the sergeant to take her seriously.

The man nodded curtly, looking around for a doctor as they were getting closer to the entrance.

"What do you want?"

"Did you find the others, too? A woman? Dark hair, pale skin, blue eyes…?"

The sergeant grunted, recognition flashing in his eyes as he looked back at her. That was a good sign, Jack thought. At least the sergeant knows about whom Jack was talking about.

"No. Just the captain."

"Not even bodies?"

"Nope."

Jack started to slow down, her mind racing, trying to come up with something to ask that could give her a clue.

"How bad is he? Can he talk?"

The other infantryman, who wasn't carrying the stretcher, turned towards her with an irritated expression. "He lost a lot of blood. I don't think he'll make it."

"Did you find him there? At the hotel?"

The man shook her head, but he did reply, hanging back so Jack could keep up with him.

"We couldn't get close, there was a fucking banshee lurking nearby."

"So the others–"

"Gone," the man said sternly. "Sorry about your friend. She fought well."

Jack nodded in acknowledgement and slowed down, letting the infantrymen carry their captain inside. She stopped just a few steps before the gates, staring after them, watching medics and nurses treating the injured, a few of them even performing surgery.

She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, and the view of the makeshift field hospital filled her with dread. She stood there, in the way, people dodging her as they rushed by, some of them bumping into her rudely or growling at her to get out of the way. Normally Jack would have lashed back, just for the heck of it, but now she found it hard to collect her thoughts.

What the fuck was she doing anyway? Babysitting some girl who was more than capable of taking care of herself, while letting herself be guilt-tripped into going on fool's errands? It made perfect sense not to get too attached to anybody in this fucking war. So why did she let herself be dragged into it?

Jack stood there and stared ahead blankly, the doctors and nurses just a pale blur in the foreground. In the back, she noticed someone sitting on a bench. Her hair was dark and short, and her clothes in the tones of the uniforms the Crucible Science Team was wearing. Jack couldn't be sure, though, because she was far, the light was not the best, and people were coming and going, and the woman had her face buried in her palms as her shoulders shook from crying.

But she did get attached to things in this fucking war, didn't she? First it was Shepard's crew on the Normandy. Not that she became friends with anybody, really, and she wouldn't have characterized her relationship with Miranda as "friendship" either. But then came Grissom and those little shits really grew on her, and it hurt when she lost too many of them in the past few months.

So there. They were right not to cozy up too much with each other. Jack started to wonder if maybe Miranda sent Oriana to her so she could help her move on. And keep an eye on her so she wouldn't do something stupid.

Jack did indeed felt like she needed to make sure Oriana was okay. Whatever they _didn't_ have with Miranda, was already forming between Jack and Oriana. What a manipulative bitch! Was it the plan all along? Softening her up in case she needs someone to take care of her little sister?

As Jack watched the girl, who may or may not have been Oriana, she found the men from the 82nd huddling around a bunch of doctors and nurses who were working on their captain. Jack's eyes darted back and forth between them and the girl, and it started to dawn on her that there was a good chance that Oriana would eventually bump into them.

Jack let out an annoyed groan. She didn't want to be here when that happened. She spun around and started marching off.

 _Fuck them. Fuck them all. I'll just find us a place to sleep, set the little brat up and get the fuck out of Dodge. I am not getting dragged deeper into this. I already have my kids to think of–_

Jack came to a halt next to the jeep that woke her up earlier. The control panel was still active, small lights blinking, the engine still warm. That small, nagging feeling in the back of her mind, just below the soreness in her muscles and the migraine, made her glance at the control panel. It was not locked. She could nick the car and be out of here in a few minutes.

Jack glanced over her shoulders towards the football pitch. She slipped into the driver's seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hovering over the central panel. Time seemed to stop.

Her chest started to hurt again, like an invisible vise was trying to crush her ribs. Her hand trembled over the console.

She glanced up towards the field hospital. Somewhere in there, Oriana was expecting her to find them a place to sleep.

A deep rumble rolled over the land, the scents of an imminent summer storm mixed with the stench of smoke and blood. The rain will come soon.

Jack shuddered at the unexpected thunder, her gaze faltering. Wouldn't it just be easier to disappear, let everybody sort their shit out without her? Was she really turning into a babysitter?

"Ah, for fuck's sake," Jack groaned, rolling her eyes. It was already too late. She was already starting to feel physically ill at the thought of giving up on Miranda. Could she live with leaving more people behind?

She tapped the console and it lit up, showing the map of the area, with a route marked on it, leading Northeast, towards the City. It was showing where the infantrymen went looking for their captain.

"Fuck me," she whispered, looking up quickly. Nobody was watching her, the 82nd were still busy inside, and Oriana was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't believe this." She knew what she had to do. She let out a frustrated sigh, cursed under her breath and fired up the engine. She put her foot down, sending the jeep lurching forward. She turned in a tight circle and started to drive off North, towards the city, following the map.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

It started to rain quietly not long after she left the last checkpoint and she entered the no man's land. She felt her omnitool buzz at one point, and she suspected it was Oriana trying to reach her, but she was in no mood to talk to her. Fortunately she was getting out of range very fast, and after that she was really alone out there in the sudden twilight.

She had to eventually turn on the lights, and she knew she should have put the roof up before she got completely soaked, but she couldn't be bothered. She was running on fumes, gripping the steering wheel tightly and gritting her teeth, every unnecessary action feeling like a waste of energy.

It didn't take too long for her to spot the first husks, staggering about between the rubbles. They turned towards the noise and light and started to move on her from all directions. Jack just floored the pedal before she mowed two of them down, leaving the rest behind. It was getting tricky to navigate the road as more rubble and sometimes corpses littered the landscape and visibility was quickly dropping with the steady rain and the darkness descending.

The cold slowly started to bother her, and she had to slow down too much, until it felt she wasn't making any real progress, which quickly became frustrating. She was feeling every minute passing, and her chances evaporating. She saw a few more husks and cannibals lurking, but they were not posing a threat so far.

Jack knew it was just a matter of time before she ran out of luck, though, but she was reluctant to use her gun, not to mention her biotics. The car noise and the jeep's headlights were already drawing too much attention.

Eventually it happened. A nearby office building was still burning and the heat and light lured the critters close, including a brute. The damned thing rumbled and charged immediately upon noticing Jack, coming at the jeep from the side. A couple of husks and cannibals made up its entourage and they started to shamble after it.

"Motherfucker," Jack sneered as she heard the heavy steps approaching. In daylight, she might have been able to shake it off, but not in the dark and rain. She steered right, slipping her arm from the sling to grip the steering wheel tightly and floored the jeep. Meanwhile she detached her M-3 Predator from her belt and flipped it to incendiary ammo. She had to time this correctly, so she waited until the last moment, until the brute made it's last leap, the momentum carrying it, and stepped hard on the breaks.

The huge claw slammed down, but instead of the hood, it hit concrete, the creature losing its balance. Jack stepped on the accelerator again and bumped the beast with the grills. It didn't do too much damage, but it was enough to pin the dangerous arm into the crack it made in the concrete.

She was on her feet in an instant, leaping over the windshield and firing at the head. She leapt onto the arm and crawled up the shoulder as the brute was still struggling, the burning hot slugs sizzling as they bounced off the armor, some of them finding their way between the cracks.

The brute roared and shook itself, throwing Jack off its back, the biotic using the momentum to slide down his back and land in a roll, scraping her arms and elbows on the rubble. She spun around on her knees, ignoring the other thralls closing in and kept firing into the more vulnerable back of the brute until it stopped moving.

By that time, the others were close and she heard the dull thud of a cannibal's grenade launcher. She rolled to the side blindly, trying to reach the cover of the jeep. The explosion helped, the scorching hot shockwave throwing her the rest of the way, making her slide on her shoulder, shredding her fancy marine badges off her jacket.

Ears ringing, Jack crawled to the jeep and throw her back against it, hearing the growls and snarls, the husks no doubt trying to flank her. She caught her breath and waited, watching the shadows on the ground.

The husks were faster, rounding the back of the jeep, making eerie noises. Jack waited, and was about to make her move when one of the creatures jumped onto the jeep and tried to take her from above.

Jack hissed, not really expecting that move, but dived forward and spun on her back, peppering the wretched creature with a salvo of smoldering ammo. The thing landed on her as a dead weight, Jack pulling up her knees to soak the impact and throw it off her.

The remaining beasts rounded the jeep on both sides, so Jack sprung up and jumped over the jeep, making a wild dash for the burning building. She heard the growls and snarls behind her, and another deep sound as a cannibal's cannon fired. She sprung forward, flexing her muscles expecting the blast, since it was too late to throw up a biotic shield anyway.

Jack felt the explosion this time, the immense heat scorched her hair and her back, leaving a stinging sensation where the clothes did not cover her torso. The shockwave of the blast threw her forward, and she lost her balance and slammed into the ground pretty hard, scraping brand new patches of skin that she missed last time. She rolled a few yards with a groan, shell shocked, her ears ringing, the sounds muffled and distant. She rolled on her back and strained her eyes towards the husks and cannibals, trying to focus, but everything was too blurry. She could see movement, though, and lying on her back she started shooting half-blind at the swaying spots that approached her, taking down at least two of them before her thermal clip was full and ejected with a hiss.

She scrambled backwards on her elbows and feet, tapping her pockets for a spare, but she was still disoriented and her ears still rang, and her eyes still watered from the shock.

This was it, she thought, I'll still end up dead in the dark, like we were supposed to, only one day later. This was fucking stupid. Totally fucked up idea to come out here alone, with no hope or chance of finding Miranda at all, not to mention alive, if all it took was a few fucking cannibals to take her down. Why the fuck was she here anyway? Why was it so fucking important?

"No," she wheezed, shaking her head to clear her vision. This won't be how she dies.

She balled her hand into a fist, feeling the familiar tingle as her hand started to glow, gathering the strength to blast out at these fuckers. Let it draw more of them here, I'll kill every motherfucking last one of you!

There was a loud bang, the indistinguishable pop of a sniper rifle, and then a spray of blood as one of the cannibals' head disappeared in an explosion of bone and gore. A few more discreet bangs from an assault rifle took care of the husks and the sniper rifle spoke again, taking out the last remaining cannibal. It collapsed with a quiet thud and then it was all quiet again, just the rain falling relentlessly, washing away the dirt and grime.

Jack slowly sat up, panting heavily, her gun still held up vaguely in the enemy's direction. Noises were starting to return, and her vision cleared. Debris falling and boots making noise behind her. She spun around on the ground, pointing the gun towards the footsteps, and the familiar shapes of two armored human soldiers approaching greeted her.

The men quickly reached her, one of them pointing his gun behind her, covering them, while the other man yanked her to her feet and they swiftly and expertly fell back to the burning building.

They dragged her up to the third floor, the top of the rubble, where it was dark and quiet and safe. The fires were mostly flickering on the ground floor of the other, mostly collapsed wing of the building. This end was in slightly better shape, free of smoke and structurally sound, but most of all, dry.

The men let her go once they were upstairs, and for once, Jack was not complaining. She would have hated to climb the stairs on her own. There was a third man crouching under a window, his rifle propped up next to him, and a body was lying by the wall. Judging by the way he did not move, it looked like he was dead.

"That was some stunt you pulled down there," one of her rescuers, a lieutenant muttered in a thick, British accent, taking off his helmet.

Jack nodded, still a bit winded, sitting down next to the sniper with a grunt.

"I'm a better driver, actually."

The sniper passed her a flask before pulling off his helmet, grinning.

"Lieutenant Hicks, 1st Battalion, 16th Air Assault Brigade," the man standing in front of her introduced himself, flicking her a salute.

Jack winced a bit, always hating to introduce herself with her adopted name and rank.

"Sergeant Nought, 103rd Marines, Biotic Division," she muttered reluctantly, sipping a few gulps of water from the offered flask.

The lieutenant nodded curtly, shooting another glance at her torn jacket with the insignias.

"Where is the rest of your team?"

"Gatwick, I think."

The third man, a private by the look of his shoulder patches, whistled in amusement.

"You're far away from home, sergeant."

Jack scoffed. It felt like light years, indeed.

"I-I'm looking for someone," she managed after a second, handing the flask back to the sniper, sergeant Meeks, according to his tags.

"Aren't we all," Meeks muttered with a grin, eyeing Jack curiously. In any other circumstances, she would have taken note of it. He seemed like her kind of crazy. Right now, she could only shoot a cutting glance to him and shrugged.

"Her plane was shot down and she joined up with the 82nd during the battle. They evacuated some civilians from a shelter nearby and blew it up to cover their retreat. Nobody has heard about her group since."

"So they sent you to find her," lieutenant Hicks said.

Jack nodded.

Somebody passed her a relatively clean rug that she took with a grateful nod and started to rub herself dry and clean from the mud as best as she could.

"Why?"

Jack hesitated. She knew these guys were just curious, but even if their interest was genuine, she was reluctant to reveal anything remotely personal.

"She's a VIP," she said finally. It was close enough. "She was the head of the Recon Special Group."

Hicks didn't seem too convinced that it was the full story, but he had enough sense not to push it further.

"What happened?" Jack nodded towards the dead soldier, just to change a subject a bit.

Outside it was completely dark by now and the rain seemed to be picking up. The jeep's lights were still on, casting a path of flickering brightness past the looming corpse of the brute.

"Rough landing," sergeant Meeks replied quietly. Jack didn't remember the guy ever moving since she got here, apart from giving her the flask. He was just as scarce with his words as he was with his movement. It seemed his gaze was also permanently glued to her, sizing her up like a curiosity.

"So what are _you_ doing out here?"

"We are part of a scouting task force. One of a few dozen small squads dropped into enemy territory, taking up positions to observe and report any movement," Hicks said.

"We're not supposed to engage," Meeks added with a meaningful glance.

"I appreciate your help," Jack replied with a grateful nod, looking from one man to the other. "So you were put here to be on the lookout."

"They said the next push will start in the morning and we're supposed to scout ahead."

"So you know the area," Jack said, watching the lieutenant as he sat down, too. The private stood guard near the window, leaning against the wall and looking out with a night vision goggle.

"Pretty much."

"I'm looking for a hotel. It was a designated civil shelter. It should be close by. When the 82nd fell back to Sutton, they blew it up."

"And you think your VIP will be there."

Jack shrugged. "Well, she didn't make it back with the rest of the division, and the rescue team only recovered the captain. So I'm guessing that's where I'll find her."

"She's probably dead, you know," Hicks said, looking at Jack with a tired but honest expression. She could feel the camaraderie in his tone. He was not being smug or patronizing. He respected Jack enough to be honest with her.

"I know," Jack said flatly, returning his gaze. She was too tired to care if they could hear the hint of grief in her voice. She came here for her own closure.

"Did you say the 82nd sent in a recovery team?" the private said, turning his attention to them, his goggle glowing green as he looked at Jack.

"That's what I said."

"That's why the jeep was familiar," the private pulled up his goggle to look at them directly. "I knew I saw them pass through a couple of hours ago. Then they rushed back with a stretcher on the hood."

Jack nodded. "Did you see where they went?"

The private pushed himself off from the wall and pointed out the window. "They disappeared behind that corner. Two man sweeping the buildings, two in the jeep."

Jack looked at the lieutenant, who pulled out his datapad and put it down on the floor. He flicked on the map and poked his finger at an intersection.

"We're here," he explained, his finger gliding over the lines. "If they went this way, then that pillar of smoke we saw during the day must have been the hotel. It's around here–" he scrolled the map and drew a small circle with his finger around a block. "It's about two-three clicks from here, in that direction. See this park here? Must have been next to the hotel."

Jack looked up at him and met his gaze. That look said to her: don't do it. Jack's nod was barely visible, just like her smirk.

"Sounds like the place."

"We can't back you up on this, though," he said matter-of-factly, neither warning, nor apologising to her. "If there was a brute, there's a banshee nearby. I already lost one man, I can't compromise my mission."

Jack nodded sternly. "Duly noted."

Meeks reached for his utility belt and detached two canisters, holding it out for the biotic.

"Flares," he said quietly. "Send one up when you're done, so we can mark your location for extraction."

Jack stared at the cylindrical shapes in a daze, slowly looking up at the sniper.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"We can't send evac to you until daylight. These fuckers are more active in the dark," Hicks warned her. "Your best bet is to get to a safe spot, preferably on high ground. The higher the better. Ever since the– flash, the enemy is disorganized. They don't climb stairs unless they smell prey."

Jack took a breath, ready to reply and thank them again, but the private rustled, moving back to the wall and snapping his nightvision goggles down over his eyes.

"We've got movement," he whispered.

They all stood up, Meeks calmly resting his M-97 Viper on the windowsill, kneeling into position. The rain was still falling steadily, the rustle and the drumming on the roof muffling most of the noises, but the faint grunts and growls were unmistakable.

"Five humanoids coming in from the north. At least one cannibal. Maybe a marauder, too," the private reported, gripping his M-8 steadily.

Hicks took up position near a missing wall segment, waiting and watching quietly.

"I need to get to the jeep," Jack said, standing behind the private. They all looked at her, the lieutenant raising his eyebrow in question. "My bag is there, with my supplies."

"This position got hot anyway," Meeks suggested when Hicks glanced at him. "We can go one floor higher in the next building. We won't see the intersection, but we'll have a wider field of view to the East."

The lieutenant waited, looking at the private who just shrugged nonchalantly, then back at his sniper. Meeks was resting his cheek on the stock of his rifle and nodded reassuringly. "We were bound to be discovered here after the party downstairs," he nodded towards the dead brute and the jeep.

Hicks pondered for a moment and then nodded.

"We'll take a cue from the 82nd," he said finally, turning towards the private. "Set up a remote charge. We lure them in, jump out the back and circle around to get to higher ground. It will also clear a line of sight this way."

The private nodded and stepped away from the window, passing the goggles to Meeks, who kept watch. While he rummaged around their dead comrade's stuff, Lieutenant Hicks turned to Jack. "Go downstairs and wait behind the corner. When the shooting starts, grab your shit and make a run for it. We'll try to cover you as best as we can."

Jack nodded, stuffing the flares into one of her many pockets. She grabbed Hicks' shoulder and gave him a pat. "Thanks."

"Good luck out there," Hicks nodded. "Go."

Jack popped a thermal clip into her M-3 and left, running down the stairs as lightly as she could, gun in one hand, listening to the rain outside, trying to isolate the husks' noises. She slipped out the back, into the cold shower, avoiding the slippery rubble as she made her way to the corner closest to her stranded jeep.

Now she could see the damage done to it, the grill and most of the hood crumpled under the clawed arm and the hulking corpse of the brute. She could try to start the engine and back out from under the dead beast, but she wouldn't have much use of it farther down the path. Alone, dodging the rubble it was neither fast, nor effective, and would only draw the indoctrinated creatures to her. It was going to be a walk in the rain from now on.

She waited, crouched behind the wall, leaning against it to be out of the rain, her breath visible in the cooling night. She had to give a few minutes to the scout team until they got prepared, and the husks got close enough for the trap to work.

There was indeed a marauder with the ragtag group, the others seemed to be following it. It was no surprise that when the M-97 spoke, Meeks went for the marauder. The turian-reaper abomination collapsed with half its skull missing, and the husks turned towards the noise. Hicks and the private opened fire at them with their Avenger assault rifles, and the madness started.

Jack bolted, running the long way around to stay in cover until she reached the stranded jeep, the car and the dead brute providing perfect shelter from the rest of the wide intersection, while the still working headlight illuminated the area in front of the building enough so that Hicks and his men could pick off the husks easily.

She reached into the jeep, groping around the wet floor under the front passenger seat where the pack must have fallen when they hit the brute. While she dug her bag out from the car, she kept an eye on the husks and the building. The fight was already coming to an end.

But as Jack slipped the strap of the bag over her shoulder she could see movement in the dark, behind the building where Hicks' team was holed up. They couldn't see it, concentrating on the front, and so far, the newcomers didn't notice Jack.

Jack looked up at the building, waving her hand and trying to signal them, but she was half in the dark herself, behind a lightsource, and she had no clue if the men could actually see her.

There was a lot of movement in the back streets, the flickering blue lights of some of the reaper implants floating around like fireflies in the dark, and Jack could not tell yet how many and what kind of creatures were there. There was no guessing if Hicks' team got her message, so she slipped around to the back of the jeep and crouched down, watching over the trunk as the shambling figures closed in, waiting to see where the men would emerge.

There was more movement at the other end of the building, the noise attracting everything within earshot. They must have been on alert before, probably since Jack arrived and took out the brute and its entourage, and now this short firefight helped them zero in on the soldiers.

Jack knew that it was her arrival that put the men in this position, and now she just made it worse when they covered her until she got to the backpack.

She tried to follow all the movement, trying to figure out the numbers and the odds. It didn't look good, especially if the reaper forces catch the guys off-guard.

Jack glanced back wistfully over her shoulder towards the street she needed to go and grimaced. "Oh, fuck this," she muttered to herself, turning back towards the approaching creatures. She propped her arm up on the trunk and steadied her aim, gripping the Predator tightly.

The group closing in from the back streets seemed to be larger, and thus, more dangerous. It was definitely a mixed team and she was slowly able to make out at least one larger figure.

Jack checked her ammo and aimed, sending a short burst of incendiary rounds into the biggest thing, the gunshots loud and sharp in the quiet rainfall. The creature twitched and fell, setting off a flurry of activity and a dull thud, a grenade arching towards the sky, its trajectory taking it several yards ahead, right between a couple of husks that were already charging. It scattered the group, giving Jack precious seconds to duck into cover and roll to the other corner of the jeep.

Apparently, she managed to take out yet another cannibal, which shot the grenade blindly as it died. Jack could only hope this was enough clue and distraction for Hicks and his men, and they would be able to keep the rest of the fuckes off her back.

She was already concentrating on the smaller group, that lurched towards the building as well, unwittingly in a good position to flank Hicks' team if they decided to emerge from the building this way.

Jack pulled the trigger a few more times again, picking off most of the husks, the easiest targets, leaving a marauder standing, its full attention concentrated on her. She quickly rolled back into cover and lifted her gun to her face to check the clip.

"Aw, man," she groaned. She really, _really_ loved using her biotics, and she really, _really_ hated that she had to hold herself back. She was soaked and cold, and she could have used a nice, tingling-warm biotic barrier around herself and crush skulls with a flick of her fingers but she was still not in top form. Plus alone in the city, she didn't want to attract the uglier harvested creatures upon them. On the other hand, the marauder didn't leave her with too many options.

She slapped the side of her M-3, a faint blue glow in the middle of her palm, and charged up the gun's stock with a tiny warp field, while the marauder peppered her cover with a few bursts of assault rifle fire.

As she half spun out from cover, on her knees, holding her gun steady, she heard the familiar noises of M-8 Avengers barking behind the building. So Hicks' team got the message. She was a bit relieved that she didn't let them walk into a trap.

Meanwhile she was pulling the trigger and sending short bursts of gunfire towards the marauder. The bullet fragments flashed on impact and sent small ripples along the creature's armor, bending it out of shape, crumpling and fragmenting the pieces, weakening its integrity.

Not fast enough, though, and she was forced to duck back into cover as the marauder fired again, advancing relentlessly. "Fucking turian creeps," Jack muttered as she popped in a fresh thermal clip and let the used one land in a puddle with a loud hiss.

On the other end of the building, the gunfire continued, and Jack really hoped it was Hicks mowing down the bastards. She waited for a break in the marauder's volley and popped up behind the jeep. The creature was close than she expected, but she only hesitated for a second, until she adjusted her aim and shot a burst of warp ammo right into its skull.

Jack ducked back into cover even as the marauder collapsed and spun to the other side, peeking out to see how Hicks and his team was doing.

It seemed they got the situation under control, but it didn't matter. Their cover was blown, they were out in the open. Even if they make it to the next building, they made too much noise. There was a good chance more indoctrinated troops would show up.

Jack cursed under her breath, watching them mop up the rest and deciding what to do next. She caught Meeks' gesture, waving her to go. She hesitated, feeling bad for all the trouble she got them into. But before she could move, there was a great rumble and part of the smoldering building burst forward, another brute crashing through the wall, flanked by two cannibals.

"Son of a bitch!" Jack hissed and aimed, trying to take out at least one of the smaller creatures to give Hicks' men a fighting chance. She managed to get off one meager shot before her M-3 clicked empty, the thermal clip hissing as it overheated. "Motherfuck–"

She ducked again, fast enough for the cannibal to miss where the shot came from, but it wasn't enough to stall them. Jack peeked up over the jeep and watched as the trio got into visual range of the human soldiers. She frantically looked around the back seat and the trunk for anything that she could use and she immediately noticed something lodged into a weapon stand socket that made her grin.

"Hell yes," she hissed triumphantly and grabbed the M-23 Katana shotgun, yanking it out of its place. "Back in fucking business, bitches!" she declared, checking the thermal clip and flicking the gun to incendiary ammo.

Not missing a beat she spun out from the cover, gripping the shotgun steadily in both hands, standing out in the open.

"Hey! Cocksuckers!" she yelled and even before the cannibals could turn towards her, she pulled the trigger.

There was a satisfactory, deep sound and a pleasant kickback that made Jack grunt in delight and the blast connected with one of the cannibals, sending it flying into the brute. Jack fired again, the shot catching both creatures squarely in the side, the cannibal firing a grenade blindly before it fell under the stomping feet of the brute. The grenade slammed into the roof of the first floor, just one floor below where scouts were camping out before. The debris stunned the brute and sent the other cannibal staggering forward, which was probably enough warning to Hicks.

Jack glanced around desperately to see where the men were, but the cloud of dust and shrapnel flying around cut them off from her line of sight. She spun the shotgun towards the lone cannibal, but before she could pull the trigger, there was another explosion, this time it was the remote charge, that the men set up somewhere in the building.

There was an earth-shattering sound, and even before the rubble and dust could reach her, the shockwave threw Jack onto her back again, leaving her breathless and groaning. Then came the dusty darkness. She was having trouble breathing and moving anyway, so she ended up choking on the dust that turned to mud on her face and her lips.

Ears ringing Jack crawled onto her hands and knees, then pulled herself up standing. She pushed off of the jeep, and started to limp off in the cover of the dust cloud towards the street the private showed her from the window. She didn't look back to check for survivors, and she had no idea if there would be somebody left to see her signal. Suddenly she wasn't so sure she wanted to find what she was looking for.

She was soon alone on the dark streets, the rain still steadily soaking the city. It was the first time she was on foot out here, and without the engine noise and any signs of life, it was all very quiet. Distant sounds of random gunfire and the occasional explosions filtered through the darkness, and only the eerie glow of the Citadel cast some ghostly, blue light on the abandoned ruins, through the filter of the thick cloud cover.

Jack didn't stop to muse about the quietness. She gripped her shotgun and kept to the walls and covers, checking any open ground before she had to cross it, focusing on getting to her destination.

She started moving forward, staying in the shadows, checking every dark spot for enemies. They may be disorganized now, that the reapers were out of the picture, but just like predators hunting in a flock, they were drawn to any activity that could be potential prey.

She barely made it down one block on the street when she noticed the familiar blue dots of an indoctrinated creature, crouching in an archway. It was unmistakably a banshee, and it was eating something.

Jack ducked behind an upturned car, her heart racing again. She wasn't surprised to see a banshee this close to the scouts' camp, but it was still freaking her out. A bitch like this was a dangerous foe even when they fought them with 103rd. One on one, they were even more lethal.

But the real reason she felt her pulse rising and her chest hammering was because the fucking thing was _ieating/i_ something. Given that the 82nd didn't find the rest of the strike team and that banshees were drawn to biotics, she could not help but wonder about the victim.

Gripping her shotgun tightly, grimacing nervously she took a deep breath and very carefully peeked out from the cover. It was too dark to make out the details, which just made Jack squirm in frustration, cursing under her breath. Her eyes darted around, her grip tightened and loosened on the shotgun, her feet shuffling nervously.

Common sense told her, that the best idea would be to circle around the next block and avoid the banshee completely, but then she knew she would be in constant doubt. She felt the familiar pressure in her chest that made it hard to breathe. She hated it, and hated Oriana for making her feel it again.

She slipped back into cover, leaning her back against the car and rested her forehead against her shotgun until she managed to draw a deep enough breath and exhale it out slowly. She glanced out again, checking if the banshee was still there.

She looked around for something hard and heavy enough to pick up. There was plenty of rubble around to pick from. She grabbed two fist-sized pieces of concrete and picked out a storefront not far down one of the side streets, where she could safely throw. She let both rocks fly in quick succession, so the second one was already airborne when the first one landed with a loud, echoing clank.

Jack crouched down and held her breath, holding the shotgun at the ready, listening through the dripping noises. The banshee croaked and rustled. Jack waited, peeking out with one eye, resting her cheek on the chassis of the car, listening intently for the creature's noises. It shambled across the street slowly, trying to locate the source of the noise, leaving her food behind.

Jack held her breath until she actually saw the banshee appear in her field of view and slowly slipped back into the cover. She until she could see it from the shadow of the upturned car. She slowly lifted the shotgun and aimed, steadying it on the bumper of the car.

As soon as the banshee turned its back on her, she pulled the trigger. The shotgun barked and kicked back, making Jack step back a bit, but it managed to hit the banshee full in the back. Its biotic barrier flared up and soaked most of the damage. Jack wasn't interested in that, though, because she only needed the kinetic energy of the stopping power. The banshee staggered, catching its balance with a few steps, but that was enough for Jack. She dropped the shotgun, braced her stance and slammed both palms against the side of the car, releasing a blast of dark energy with all the pent-up rage she had. The throw accelerated the one ton metal frame to enormous speeds, the car rolling and bouncing impossibly on the ground before slamming into the stunned abomination, and carried it through a pillar, before crashing into the storefronts loudly.

A sudden burst of exultation warmed her limbs and her torso, her red lips curling into a manic grin. Jack was ready to demolish the rest of London if needed.

The car came to a halt and after a few more cluttering objects that fell off the walls of the building, it was just the rain again. Jack stood there, arms still reaching out, counting the heartbeats. After a few seconds, she quickly picked up the shotgun and rushed across the street to the body.

The anxiety was back, the lack of air as she slowed down, straining her eyes, not daring to lean closer. She saw combat armor, and as far as she could tell from the blood and dirt, it was an infantry gear.

Jack exhaled loudly, crouching down to check out the mauled corpse. It was a man all right, probably someone from the 82nd. She knew she shouldn't have felt relief, but it did ease the fear, and it even made her feel a bit lighter. Her fingertips were still tingling from the biotic blast and the adrenaline rush of crushing a banshee with one blast. She quickly glanced back, but there was no movement. She was tempted to remove the dog tag and keep it so she can give it back to the 82nd, but she wasn't sure she would make it through the night, so she just absently patted the armoured shoulder and quickly stood up.

It took her almost half an hour to get to the edge of the park. She would have felt miserable if it weren't for the fact that she had to keep her eyes open and stay alert, ducking from cover to cover, concentrating on every noise and movement.

There were still distant sounds of gunshots and explosions, sometimes the occasional flyby of a recon plane, and once even a harvester whooshed by, making Jack duck into a burnt out bus until it passed.

But finally she was there, the half-collapsed ancient mansion on the other side of the distended park, smoke still snaking into the dark sky from the ruins. It was much darker now, the rain fading to a light drizzle, but the clouds blocked out every light source from above.

She started moving across the park, shotgun at the ready, walking silently out into the open space. Her senses heightened, her racing heart almost thundering in her ear she walked on the muddy grass towards the building, eyes wide open, ears perked for every little noise.

She was dreading the sight as it grew and slowly filled her field of vision. She didn't want to get there, she didn't want to find out what happened. It was foolish and sentimental and she didn't fucking owe it to anyone.

Jack shook her head, blinking the raindrops from her eye but also to clear her head. Of course she owed it to Oriana. No. Not Oriana. To herself. To Jack. She was full of scars and tattoos that concealed them, and those were just the visible ones. She did not need another one, but it was still better than an open wound of not knowing. She knew betrayal and abandonment too well and she was fucking good at holding grudges to the living and the dead. She could live with one less. Whatever she will find here, will haunt her for the rest of her life, but at least it will be a familiar ghost.

There was a screech behind her that made her blood curl. She spun around, shotgun aimed forward and she noticed a banshee crawling through the rubble at the other end of the park from where she came from.

"Fuck me–"

It was not _a_ banshee. It was _the same_ banshee that she slammed a car into. It was crippled, dragging a foot and one hand bent into an obscene angle, some lights flickering where the impact crushed the metallic parts, but it was the same one.

"Tough bitch," Jack snarled. She fired off a shot before the banshee had time to realize that it's been noticed. The shotgun was not too effective at this range, but it was enough to make the harvested asari stagger and lose its footing for a few second.

Jack judged that it could be on top of her in five or six biotic leaps, and out in the open it would be lethal for her. So she made a mad dash for the ruined mansion hotel. it wasn't exactly the way she imagined approaching the place, but she didn't really have a choice. She needed cover. Fast.

She dived over the small stone fence still standing and immediately propped her shotgun up on it, waiting for the banshee to make its next jump. It was already uncomfortably close, but fortunately it needed a little time between the charges and limped quite badly, so hitting it was not a challenge. Jack counted silently in her head, pumping shot after shot into the banshee, measuring the time between each jump and calculating the length of each leap it made.

She could practically hear Miranda's voice in her head, lecturing her on the finer points of physics and gravitational forces to better utilize her unhinged, frankly barbaric bursts of biotic energy.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Jack murmured to herself after the banshee got close enough, and swung the shotgun back onto her shoulder. "Time to fight dirty."

The banshee let loose a small ball of warp energy, that drifted towards Jack, now that it was within range.

"One… two… three…" Jack immediately threw out her own warp field to counter it and the two sparkling globes started to orbit around each other, drifting to the side. "… four… five…"

The banshee jumped. Jack clenched her fists and with a furious snarl, she threw a great globe of singularity a little bit ahead and to the side to where she estimated the harvested asari would appear.

It worked almost perfectly, the banshee popping up and lifted into the air almost instantly. The creature started to spin, flailing its limbs, and caught in the pull of the singularity, it's own momentum sent it on an orbit around the sparkling blue energy ball, just to be slingshot out after a full circle.

Jack grinned, and for a moment it flashed through her mind that Miranda would be proud. The next moment, however, there was a sharp pain in her shoulder, then a mighty tug as the banshee's claw pierced her flesh, and hooked into her, dragging her into its accelerated flight over the wall.

It seemed that Jack miscalculated the trajectory and the harvested asari passed by too close to her. It had incredible reflexes, catching the biotic completely off-guard. As they were sailing and spinning through the air, Jack gripped the slender arm with both hands, and tried to twist her torso to get away.

It wasn't working, and before she could prepare for it, they slammed hard into a half-collapsed wall, the ungodly creature cushioning the impact for Jack. There was a lot of crunching noise as bones and biomechanical wires and frames snapped, and probably a few of Jack's ribs cracked. She let out a painful cry that was cut short when she ran out of breath.

Tangled into each other Jack and the wretched creature struggled, the impact mercifully ripping the claw from the biotic's shoulder. The banshee was in bad shape, slimy fluids were oozing from a dozen wounds, it's spine probably snapped and its torso twisted. From up close Jack could see the damage that she did to it with the car, half the monstrous face mangled as well.

It was not finished, however, snapping its teeth, clawed hands flailing as it tried to tear her apart. Jack was still trying to draw a breath, her lungs burning, her chest throbbing in pain and her body sore from the rough landing, but with gritted teeth she fended off the claws.

It was grotesque and messy, but Jack's real concern was that if she managed to kill the beast, it would implode and she really didn't want to be in the middle of it.

One of the twisted arms of the banshee, the one that broke from the encounter with the car could only beat and scrape her, and it seemed that the pain of such an injury was not holding it back. Fortunately it could not grab or stab her, so Jack gripped the healthy arm with her good hand and tried to keep it at bay, while she fished around in panic to pull one of the flares free from her pocket.

The banshee was screeching, trying to shoot some biotic blast at her, but failing, Jack's own barrier preventing any serious charge to build up. They were both glowing blue, currents of dark energy snaking around their bodies, teeth bared, snarling at each other.

Jack wrestled with the banshee's good arm, taking the blunt hits on her bad shoulder and her head from the bad arm, trapped in the struggle, never a good chance to pull the flare. Frustrated, she finally growled and headbutted the abomination, that gave her a stunned second to yank the flare free.

She dodged the next feeble strike aimed at her head, arched her back and ripped off the safety wire with her teeth. The flare started to spit sparkles and she barely had enough time to turn her head away before it ignited.

She had only a few seconds to pull one leg up and kneel into the banshee's disgusting, bulging belly, slam its arm against the wall and stab the flare between the tangled wires and flesh in the creature's torso. She even managed to throw up the strongest barrier she could muster before the flare exploded in a red glow, trying to launch its projectile into the banshee and the wall behind it.

The flash of light was intense, the following heatwave scorching. The explosion threw Jack back, sending her sliding on the muddy ground until she came to a halt on her back, out of breath again. The barrier protected her from the burns, but not much from the impact. A dozen yards away the red glow slowly faded and chunks of the exploded banshee landed with a sick, wet thud all over the place.

And then it was quiet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Jack drew a sudden, shocked breath, arching her back and staring wide-eyed at the clouds. She must have passed out, the world returning with a lot of pain and soreness. She looked around slowly. She must not have been out for long because she didn't feel cold yet, and the pain from her injuries were still sharp.

She laid there for a while, feeling up her limbs, trying to assess the damage. Nothing felt broken, except maybe a few ribs, but she had worse. The scratches and scrapes were nothing new either, only the wound on her shoulder felt like she should do something about it.

As she reached for her pockets, she realized that the reason why she didn't hurt her back worse was that her shotgun was missing and the backpack was still trapped under her. It cushioned most of the impact. She pulled off the shoulder straps with painful groans, hissing and cursing until she was free.

She awkwardly tugged it from under her, still reluctant to move, and started to fish around the shredded, muddy pack with bruised and muddy hands.

Most of her provisions were ruined, the energy bars squeezed to a mush, spilt inside the pack along with two of the water bottles. Only one remained intact. She grabbed one of the broken ones and poured the remaining few gulps of water from it on her wound.

Then she fished out the medkit and ripped open a medigel pack, slamming the small tube of cool plasma on her wound. She growled through gritted teeth from the pain, but she breathed through the worst of it until she could feel the gel kick in, and her flesh start to cool down and get pleasantly numb. It wasn't ideal, but she could not be bothered to stop and try to clean the wound properly. The gel would get rid of most of the infection and stop the bleeding. It was enough for now.

She found a bit of water in the bottom of the other bottle, which she drank thirstily, throwing away the empty container with a sigh. She felt chewed up and spat out, several times. She hasn't slept for more than a day now, fought through a hellish night and then some, and all she managed to accomplish was just to get more worn out.

She was done. It was over. She found the place. She would just crawl to a hole, send up the second flare and hope that the next day, some rescue team would find her. Maybe then they could dig around, find Miranda's body and put this nightmare behind her.

The thought, however, filled her with an uneasiness that gnawed at her stronger with every passing minute. She regretted listening to her kids and helping Oriana. It would have been so much easier to not think about all this and not have that fucking girl get under her skin. Ignorance is fucking bliss.

"Oh, shit," she moaned, rubbing her face desperately with a wet hand. "It's all Shepard's fault…"

A strange noise broke her from her self-pity, a creaking sound of metal scraping on stone. It sounded odd in the quiet. Whatever made it was close, amongst the ruins.

Jack sat up quickly, searching for her shotgun, balling her fists, eyes darting around, looking for the source. A piece of rubble fell somewhere, coming from the same direction. She quickly scrambled to her feet, dragging her backpack with her like a weapon, searching the ruins for the source of the sounds.

Jack was ready to tear anything else apart that came at her.

As she edged closer to the main building, she soon found the source of the noise. It was a Dragon's Teeth, one of those damn spikes that the reapers used to impale their victims on and turn them into one of their abominations. It was lying on its side, the base lodged between the rubble, the spike half extended and stuck in something. The rain probably loosened up the soil and the base started to slip on the mud until it got stuck again.

Jack's eyes slowly lifted from the device upwards over the crumbled pile of stone and wood, and saw a few of the former hotel rooms, half still intact as the floor held when the outer wall collapsed. It looked like an easy enough climb, and a promise of actually sleeping in a bed, albeit a cold and maybe damp one, but soft nonetheless. She nodded to herself, pursing her lips. "I'll take that," she muttered.

There was another noise and movement between the rubble, and Jack almost jumped again. She followed the spike from the base of the Dragon's Teeth.

"Damn," she muttered as she realized something was moving on the other end, pinned against the rubble, some poor soul trapped on it and somehow still alive. Or in the process of turning into a husk. Jack edged closer, eyes squinting as she tried to make out the shape. She would have to put the thing out of its misery.

But it didn't glow yet. "Aw, man," she muttered. If she would have to kill a human–

Those eyes–

It was Miranda!

"Holy shit!" Jack hissed, suddenly freezing in place, her legs refusing to move, while her heart skipped a few beats and then started hammering in her chest like a machine gun. She felt her skin prickle as sudden heat washed over her, reaching her cheeks and ears.

She finally managed to move, leaping forward and falling on her knees next to Miranda, her hands rushing to check for wounds, an almost unbearable dread gripping her mind until she tapped the spike and realized with a great relief that it did not go through the body.

It looked like she was gripping the tip with both hands, keeping the spike from going further. Jack could feel Miranda's hands trembling from the strain to keep it away. A hundred thoughts flooded Jack's mind, the realization that Miranda was alive, and all the conclusions that came with it, and all the things she could or should stay.

Instead she glanced up at Miranda's face and looked into her bewildered eyes. With her dark hair tangled into a mess, half covering her grimy face, dried blood sticking to it near a wound on her skull that made it look worse than it was, Miranda barely resembled herself. Her sunken eyes were wide, dark circles around it, her gaze unfocused and darting around, like a savage, trapped animal. It was still icy blue and sharp, but full of pain. Even her head was shaking from the exhaustion of keeping the Dragon's Teeth at bay. Apparently, she didn't have enough strength to speak, but she was still herself enough to recognize Jack.

"Hey," Jack whispered, swallowing hard, her voice shaking. "I'll get you out– I talked to Oriana."

Jack knew this was the most important thing that Miranda would have wanted to know, and the reaction was instantaneous. She could see Miranda's eyes fogging up and a weak sob of relief escaped her parched lips.

Jack frowned and looked away quickly, not really wanting to deal with the emotions on display. She glanced down the spike, running her palm along the length, and then nodded.

"Here," she whispered to Miranda, putting her backpack between her arms, tucking it close to her stomach, so the trapped woman would have something to cling to as soon as she got rid of the Dragon's Teeth.

She quickly stood up, spread her arms down towards the machine and her hands immediately lit up with the blue currents of dark energy. She did a throwing motion towards the base, creating a warp field the size of a fat volus, and the metal immediately started to crumple with a sharp screech, collapsing in on itself. But pumped up on adrenaline, that wasn't enough for Jack, and she swept her arms to the side as if she was opening a heavy sliding door. The Dragon's Teeth catapulted away from Miranda, and arched out over the park.

Jack didn't care where it landed or who heard it.

There was a feeble gasp and a whimper, Miranda's hands clutching the fabric of the backpack instinctively. She curled up around it, wheezing for air as the pain started to spread along her arms. Jack was right there beside her, collecting the woman in her arms, as much as for comfort as for Miranda to be able to bury her head into something as she screamed, her voice muffled in Jack's lap. Jack grimaced and held her, trying to soothe her by stroking her tangled, wet locks.

She figured that Miranda must have been holding the spike for a while now, keeping a constant strain on her muscles. The sudden relief meant that the overstressed tendons got a release and they were cramping up with a vengeance. She also knew how cramping hands can lead to nails digging into palms to draw blood, with the victim unable to control their curled up fingers.

While Miranda struggled with the shock and pain, Jack carefully checked for other injuries. It seemed like Miranda got trapped under the rubble first, that's why she could not get away from the Dragon's Teeth. Her thighs were pinned down by a wooden beam, the rest not even visible under the rubble. Jack could only hope that Miranda was aware enough to throw up a barrier when the building fell, and she wouldn't find her legs mangled underneath it all.

"Hey. Miranda. Hey," she whispered, glancing around quickly to see if they drew any attention. "I gotta lift the rubble. Are your legs hurt?"

It took several attempts and then a little time until Miranda could answer, shaking her head. Her eyes were tightly squeezed shut, her jaw set as she probably gritted her teeth, curled around the backpack.

Jack patted her shoulder. "We need to move. Get ready," she said quietly, and let Miranda go with one arm to press her palm to the beam and transfer some dark energy into its structure. It started to glow with a flickering blue light and then slowly lifted up, shaking off bigger chunks, the smaller ones starting to float around it.

There was more whimper from Jack's lap, as Miranda tried to move her legs, the circulation returning with more prickling, million-needle pain. Jack pulled, dragging her out, and they awkwardly half-crawled, half-slid off the rubble, clear of the debris.

There was more blood, Miranda's pants shredded and soaked with mud, too, but as far as Jack could tell, no bones were broken. It was almost incredible that she survived all this with almost less bumps and bruises than Jack.

"You crazy bitch," Jack muttered, and shook her head with an amused grin. The surprises and anxiety gone, with the satisfactory use of her biotics making her limbs tingle, the relief washed over her. She felt light and warm, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop herself from chuckle.

They sat there in the dark and cold, Miranda curled up in her lap, still moaning from the pain, both of them soaked, battered and miserable, and Jack laughed.

A few minutes passed. Jack collected herself and listened to the silence of the night, the sporadic sounds of distant battle, scarlet glow of fires on the horizon. The rubble slowly settled back down as the biotic charge faded away, making some noise as the pieces rearranged and some rolled down the pile. It was getting really cold, and they were not safe on the ground.

Jack looked around, twisting her neck to check out the building behind her, patting Miranda's shoulder.

"Can you get up? Walk?" Miranda just shook her head. "All right then. We need to move to higher ground. I'm gonna lift you up."

Miranda didn't react, but Jack knew she heard her. That was enough. She summoned her biotics again, engulfing both of them in a faint blue glow, countering their weight until she could lift Miranda without straining her bad shoulders, and stand up safely.

She carefully started to climb up the rubble, wobbling on pieces of stone and brick onto the first floor, helped by a little biotics under her feet to keep them from falling, until she reached one of the bedrooms with three walls and half a ceiling mostly intact.

"I sure hope this is not the honeymoon suite," Jack muttered as she walked up to the huge bed and lowered Miranda onto it, sitting down with her.

She fished out the last, crumpled bottle of isotonic drink from the pack and opened it, holding it up for Miranda. "Can you hold it?"

Miranda blinked a few times, slowly focusing on the bottle, then slowly lifted her gaze to Jack, shaking her head in embarrassment.

Jack just nodded and lifted it to her parched lips and held it as Miranda started to drink, letting out a shuddering sigh and closing her eyes.

"So does this mean that I could grope your tits and you couldn't do anything about it?" Jack snickered and her grin just widened when Miranda's eyes snapped open and glared at her.

It was good to see her react, it meant her mind was clear enough. On the other hand, she didn't look all too well, and that glare turned out to be so ghastly that it actually spooked Jack a little. As she held Miranda until she drank enough, she could feel her damp skin radiating heat. She probably had a fever. While she managed to avoid serious injuries, exhaustion, the lack of food and water, and her wounds exposed to all kinds of dirt and infections were taking a toll on her system.

"You're burning up," she whispered when Miranda pulled her head away from the half empty bottle. She looked up at Jack miserably, leaning against Jack's side and shivering from the cold. Jack reached out and tried to brush Miranda's hair from her face, her moves awkward not just because blood and dirt were caked on it, but because it felt too affectionate, too intimate. She was not used to that. "I'll get some blankets and something to clean up the wounds."

Miranda nodded, her eyes still a bit foggy as she sunk into the pillows when Jack stood up. It was hard to see the always strong and in-control woman like that, tiny and broken on the bed. It was– unnatural. Sure, Jack knew how to push at least some of her buttons and make her lower her walls and display softer, more honest human reactions, either annoyance or uncontrolled pleasure, but even when Miranda was worried or stressed about her family, it wasn't like this.

Jack carefully walked around the room, collecting towels and bedsheets, whatever she could find. She did not trust the pools of water in the faucets and bathtubs. They probably had more bacteria in them than the wounds she needed to clean up. She piled her loot on the nightstand, throwing a few extra blankets on the bed from the wardrobe, and fished out her medkit from her pockets, too.

The second flare slipped into her hand, and Jack just stood there, staring at it, calculating the risks of actually firing it. She looked at Miranda, who was visibly shivering, and looking at Jack with a dull stare, too tired to ask questions.

Jack sighed and stepped out onto the rubble again, where the ceiling was gone and she had a clear shot at the cloudy sky. She ripped off the safety wire and held the cylinder high above her head. There was a loud bang and the red flare jumped up into the sky, rising rapidly, sparkling and hissing. Jack threw away the overheated tube and hurried back to the bed.

"They won't come until morning, but they'll know where to look," she said as she settled into the damp, creaky bed and pulled Miranda into her lap.

She started to clean her wounds, mostly cuts and bruises, throwing disinfectant powder onto the nastier ones, shredding the bedsheets for bandages, and all the while she quietly explained to Miranda how she got here. Miranda was watching her the whole time, her dazed look locked on Jack's face and she did her best to listen.

Jack even found some antibiotics that she forced Miranda to take with the last of their water. She even managed to save a few chunks of energy bars from their wrappings. It wasn't nearly enough for an average human, not to mention a depleted biotics user with a fever, but at least there was something in her stomach. She finished her story as they struggled to get comfortable and settle in for the rest of the night.

"Jack–" Miranda whispered, lifting a shaking hand to rest it on a tattooed arm. Jack blinked. This was the first time Miranda spoke and it kind of surprised her. "Thank you," the woman added with a tired tone.

"Ha! Don't think I did it just for you," Jack smirked.

Miranda slowly closed her eyes, her lips twitching into a faint smile.

"Still– appreciated–"

Jack rolled her eyes and sighed, "Yeah, whatever, princess."

Miranda managed another weak smile, which made Jack unreasonably relieved. She quickly leaned over to grab the blankets and wrapped both of them in a few layers of musky, stuffy covers. Normally, they would never have been caught like this, sitting in bed, propped up with pillows, with Miranda in her lap, her back against Jack's chest, her head resting on the biotic's shoulder. Jack had a suspicion that both of them subconsciously avoided cuddling up like this whenever they could get away with it.

Jack certainly appreciated the irony.

"Jack," Miranda said, and even in this state, she could muster enough authority in her voice that Jack had to listen. "I have to tell you–"

"Oh no, you don't," Jack snapped instantly. "Don't give me the 'if I don't make it' speech, please. I have worse wounds than you, so just save us the time."

"You know… not that simple," Miranda frowned, trying to squeeze Jack's arm. It didn't even register on Jack's skin. "I know."

Jack tried to fill in the gaps, as Miranda struggled to speak in full sentences. She had to admit, that Miranda did know her biology, what with putting Shepard back together again and all that. If she wanted to be honest with herself, Miranda didn't look good. Infection, hypothermia and dehydration was a dangerous mix. She was not over the worst yet.

"Yeah, but I'm here, princess, saving your ass. We're nice and warm and tucked in like a baby, so how about you stop whining," Jack grumbled. "You're fine now."

"F-for now," Miranda nodded, looking lazily out over the ruins of London. They had a prime view of the ruins of the City to the East. "That's why I need to… need to tell…"

"Whatever," Jack rolled her eyes. "Just make it quick. Don't talk yourself to death, okay? It would be hard to explain to your sister."

Miranda shuddered. Or maybe it was an attempt at a laugh. She took a deep breath that seemed to help her collect herself.

"I… can't have… children," Miranda said, catching Jack completely off-guard. She froze, her mind racing and a fresh kind of unease started to come over her.

"It's okay, darling," she deadpanned, patting Miranda's arm under the blanket absently, her tone more sarcastic. "I bet there are tons of war orphans waiting to be adopted–"

She just couldn't help herself, she almost snickered at her own remark. Fuck tact!

"It's a neoplasm… a benign tumor…"

"Shit, Lawson, why the fuck are you telling me this?" Jack squirmed. She never had these kinds of talks with anybody. Usually she shut it down immediately, but the fact that Miranda was trying to discuss it made her anxious. And suspicious. It wasn't like Miranda to spill personal stuff like this.

"Pelvic separation… do you know what it is?" Miranda pressed on, her voice determined if not strong.

"No, I fucking don't– Just get to the point." Jack was starting to entertain the possibility that Miranda was delirious.

"It's the pelvic bone… it… stretches during birth… That's how they can tell if you had…" she did not finish, letting Jack piece it together.

Jack didn't know where she was going with this, but she knew she didn't like the direction. She decided to stay quiet and let her get to the end of her rambling, just to get it over with.

"I always wondered… if my father wanted a dynasty. Why didn't he create a son?" Miranda stared out over the ruins again, shrinking smaller in Jack's lap, like she was trying to protect herself from her own words. "Then I understood when he… he started to... force himself on me… soon after I turned sixteen…"

"Shit, Miranda," Jack moaned. It was the worst possible time to finally find out about the Ice Queen's past. Part of her wanted to push the other woman away, so that she would leave her the fuck alone. Instead she wrapped her arms around her firmly, not squeezing just holding her, her knees pulled up on either side of her.

Because Jack knew all too well how it felt to be taken advantage of from a young age. Her own life was pretty shitty for as long as she could remember, and it involved quite a few forced encounters, or just fucking the wrong guy and thinking that it was normal. Not to mention Pragia…

She could never understand why Miranda was bitching so much about her life, when she had all the money, all the fancy-ass schools and food and dresses. So what if her dad was an unbearable control freak? Boo-hoo– But this– It made her queasy.

"I did the math, you know. At first I thought he was just a perv... But I had this– he had a surgery made on me… he-he said it was a new biotic amp prototype…" Miranda's voice started to tremble, and Jack knew it was not the exhaustion. "I-I missed out on two semesters and, uh, I don't remember much of that time. Then-then he told me that-that my body initially rejected the amp– and I was in a coma for months… god!"

Miranda took a deep, shuddering breath and Jack could feel her body shiver. Jack didn't dare to look and see if she was crying. She wasn't sure she could take the sight. She was sort of making it a hobby of hers to try and get Miranda to slip up, to lower her shields and show another side of her that was not so measured and calculated. It was a challenge, and it was hot. Fuck, Miranda could be so hot when she was mad. Or when she was horny. To be honest, even when she was cold and strict, she could still turn people on.

Jack always felt she was missing something about the ex-Cerberus agent, though, but none of them spoke about deep shit like that. Okay, Jack could be bitchy about it, and she did tell a few things to Shepard. He had that effect on people. She wondered what Miranda told him. Certainly not this… wherever this was going.

But of course she knew where Miranda was going. It was just so sick, that she didn't want to think about it.

"It took me a while to figure it all out, you know," Miranda sniffed, her voice thinner, trying and failing to control it. "I mean, how do I get a tumor when my genes– and Oriana should look _exactly_ like me. But when I tested her DNA… she's his daughter all right…" her voice faltered, and from the tiny vibrations and tensions Jack could tell that she was weeping. Desperate, exhausted. And losing more fluids.

"Sick fucker," Jack murmured, trying to soothe Miranda, muttering into her hair, rubbing her arms awkwardly, not exactly sure if these words were comforting to her.

"He– did this to me, Jack. He made sure that nobody else– Because Oriana is my–"

"I got it, Miranda. I got it. You don't have to–"

"My daughter…" Miranda pressed out with great effort before her emotions got the better of her and Jack had to wrap herself tighter around her, so Miranda could bury her face into Jack's arm and the mouldy blankets and let it out. This time it was a different kind of pain. Something she could finally let go of.

So Jack held her and whispered soft, hushing nonsense into her hair. As much as it was exhausting for Miranda to let go of herself like this, Jack knew she needed it. Whatever happens, Miranda had to get this out of her system. And as much as Jack hated to hear it and she hated how it made her dizzy with anger and confusion, and a hundred questions, most of them she could answer by herself. She was unreasonably satisfied to know that Miranda killed Henry Lawson. If they get out of this alive, she'll have to ask Miranda to describe it to her in great detail.

"Hey," she said after a while, before Miranda would get too tired to stay awake. "It's gonna be fine now."

Fuck. She did just say it. She said something nice that was not true.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Things went quickly downhill from there. She could feel Miranda's head get heavier on her shoulder, and she stopped talking. At first Jack didn't know if that was good or bad.

"Uh, so, does Oriana know?" Jack mumbled awkwardly just to keep her awake.

Miranda tried to shake her head. "Mm-not yet… will figure it out… eventually."

That was the last time she spoke, and it was fifteen minutes before Jack started to get suspicious. She stopped asking questions because most of them seemed irrelevant at that point, and since neither of them were the social types, small talk was never easy for Jack.

At one point Miranda started to feel heavy against her, which was strange when she felt so light before. She seemed completely relaxed, and fallen asleep. Jack nudged her to try and wake her up but of course it wasn't working.

She shook her stronger.

"C'mon, princess. Wake the fuck up," she hissed. Miranda's head bobbed left and right. "Shit!"

Jack checked for her pulse. It was so weak, she couldn't be sure. She was not breathing, however.

"Shit shit shit shit!"

Jack scrambled to get out from under Miranda and lay her down on her back. She propped up her head, crumpling a blanket under her neck to tilt her head back. She pinched Miranda's nose shut, took a deep breath, pressed her lips against Miranda's and breathed into her mouth. She could feel her chest rising and falling. Muttering to herself she straddled her and started to pump her chest, stopping occasionally to breathe into her mouth and check her vitals.

"Come on, don't fucking chicken out on me now," Jack whispered after a few tries. It was more exhausting than she thought it would be, and she had no idea how long she could keep it up. She didn't expect that this would be their first big makeout session after all that had happened.

After a few more, Miranda drew a ragged breath by herself, her eyelids fluttering open. She looked up at Jack confused.

"Don't fucking do this again," Jack muttered, still catching her breath and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, choking back her emotions.

It happened again a few hours later, the eerie stillness rousing Jack from her light sleep. After Miranda was too tired to speak any more, it was harder for both of them to stay awake. Jack had one hand on Miranda's wrist to easily check for a pulse, and settled into a semi-comfortable position on the bed to feel when Miranda passed out.

Jack didn't dare to sleep in case she needed to do CPR again, but it was getting harder as time passed. It was a real torture, too scared to drift off, waking with a panicked jolt, not knowing how much time has passed, fumbling to feel the pulse, terrified that it would be too late. Miranda tried to keep her eyes open, too, doing her best to make Jack's job easier, but they both knew it was a hopeless struggle.

At one point, Miranda turned her head to the side, tilting it back and resting her head on Jack's arm, she looked into her eyes. She didn't say a word, but her look told Jack all she needed to know. She knew she was going to fall asleep, and she was placing her trust in Jack to keep her safe. Miranda wasn't giving up, her eyes did not fog up in a gesture of goodbye, her lips weren't trembling from suppressed emotions. She was just stating the obvious with that last, steady stare: "Now it's in your hands." and "No hard feelings if I don't make it." At least, Jack hoped it was there.

That was hours ago, and she was so tired when she realized Miranda wasn't breathing again, that she had trouble untangling herself, fumbling and getting caught in everything. She almost cried in frustration. It took a lot of willpower to go through the motions, pumping Miranda's chest five-six times, breathe into her mouth, then again, one two three four five… "Fuck! Come on, bitch!" She was snarling and almost screaming by the end, but it worked, there was a deep, gasping breath, a little coughing and that confused look again.

"Hey," Jack whispered, sighing in relief.

"Hey," Miranda mumbled in reply, looking at her for long seconds without any more words. Maybe she didn't even recognize Jack, but the biotic was still relieved, letting out a nervous laugh, watching Miranda drift back to sleep, breathing steadily.

"This is what I get," Jack muttered bemused, wiping her lips off their taste. This time, she just spooned up around Miranda's back, wrapping them in the musky blankets and laid there, the adrenaline still pumping in her veins. She watched the smoking ruins of the city, wondering if the Brits from the 16th made it, if there was anybody to mark their position when the flare went up, or if they got run over because they helped Jack, and she just gave away her location to a new bunch of indoctrinated troops with that fucking flare.

She absently reached for her gun, too tired to check the thermal clip. She snuggled in, wrapping a hand around Miranda's waist protectively. _iI/i_ am _igetting soft,/i_ she wondered. It felt good to hold her like that. It felt important. Probably just the circumstances, she thought, dismissing the idea. Normally cuddling like this was just foreplay, teasing Miranda until she could bear not being in control. It was a weird feeling, how she let Jack take over.

Maybe there was something to what Oriana said about–

Fuck, she almost drifted off again! She blinked a few times, resting her cheek on Miranda's shoulder and stared at the ruins of London again. Fires were flickering everywhere, but the explosions and gunshots mostly died down or only filtered in occasionally and from the distance. Last night it was hell, during the day it was apocalyptic, but now it was just eerie. It was all dark and quiet after the rain. Dawn was creeping in from the East, over the city. It wasn't going to be long now.

Jack awoke to the sounds of rubble disturbed, pieces of brick and stone rolling down the slopes. It was already morning, but there were still clouds lingering over the city, so the sun barely shone through. She jolted awake, grabbing for her gun and lifting it to aim.

She couldn't see anything, but adrenaline was already spreading in her body. She wrapped her left arm around Miranda's sleeping figure and slowly started to crawl up into a sitting position. At least she hoped she was still sleeping. She didn't have time to check her pulse.

"Hold on," she whispered into Miranda's tangled hair, gripping the shotgun tightly, watching the edge of the rubble to see who's coming up.

A clawed hand emerged, a bald skull following, the husk flashing its electric blue grin at them. Based on the rustle, there were more behind the first one. Jack stared at it, the creature looked back at her and prowled closer. When the second one emerged, close behind, Jack braced herself and pulled the trigger. The kickback was strong, almost ripping the gun from her one-handed grip, but it did the job. The husks flew back, one of them in pieces, and disappeared out of sight, only the gunshot echoed in the early morning quiet.

Jack quickly put the gun down, shook her wrist and she was gripping it again, getting ready to fire. She didn't have to wait long. Apparently, critters were lurking in the ruins of the hotel for a while now, and it was a stroke of luck that they haven't discovered Jack and Miranda earlier.

She could hear growls and snarls and screeches as they crawled their way up the rubble. She shuffled up higher into a sitting position on the bed, tugging the unconscious Miranda with her, squirming until her head was on Jack's other shoulder. She pressed the butt of the shotgun against the board behind her, squeezed it under her arm and steadied herself.

She had to wait until the last second to take out two with one shot again, but it was getting risky.

"Come on, motherfuckers!" Jack snarled, as a marauder appeared in the room. She adjusted her aim and pulled the trigger. She hit it in the chest, not enough to kill, but the impact was enough to throw it back over the edge. She guessed the bigger beasts, if there were any, wouldn't be able to climb up here, so the worst she could expect were the cannibals that just appeared.

Two more shots sent them reeling back, the sturdy beasts heavy enough to stay on their feet. They almost got to the bed before Jack tapped them out. The next shot, blowing up another husk, was the last before the thermal clip started to hiss, forcing Jack to eject it.

There was a brief pause in the assault, but she could hear others approaching. She dropped the gun, gathered Miranda in her arms like a child and checked her vitals. Her skin was warm and she could detect a faint pulse and breathing, but she couldn't shake her awake.

It didn't matter. They would never make it out of the room alive.

Jack waited, holding Miranda close, the growling noises increasing as the husks, drawn by the commotion, laid siege to the hotel room. There was only one thing she could do. Her heart hammering in her chest, she waited until the last second, when the most possible enemies were close enough, and she sent out a blast of pure biotic energy, the shockwave throwing everything around them outward, reapers flying everywhere. The walls started to creak around them, the half-missing ceiling showering them with dust as cracks ran along the surface.

Jack threw up a protective bubble around their bed, holding a hand above their head. The next second there was a loud rumble as the hotel wing started to shake, debris showering on the biotic shield, half-burying Jack and Miranda under them.

This must have been how Miranda survived the blast, Jack thought—holding up a barrier and gradually shrinking it, hoping that when she ran out of juice, she would still be able to get away without being crushed.

Jack watched the concrete, stone and bricks piled over them precariously. She doubted they would be lucky this time. Half of the rubble slipped farther down, opening a wide window to the sky, where pieces of the building slid down to the ground floor.

"That's something, I guess," Jack muttered. The sounds came muffled, and for now, it seemed quiet, only the building creaking around them. The explosion the night before already weakened the structure, and now Jack's supercharged blast probably made the situation worse. Based on the vibrations she could feel, it was only a matter of time before it all collapsed.

Jack kept her focus, the bubble holding strong, but she could feel the energy of the tons of rubble pressing against her barrier unevenly, spreading out and draining her strength. It was as if someone was pressing a huge palm to one side of her skull. At least the "other side" was free, so air could filter through, but she could feel the weakened floor trembling under them. She had to compensate for the little shifts as the structure started to lose the battle with gravity. There could be other creatures out there, too, so even if she could figure out a way to move herself and Miranda away from the debris, they could be vulnerable to more attacks.

"Shit!" Jack started to drag themselves awkwardly off the bed on the other side, keeping a hand above her head. The floor started to tilt, making the drop from the bed unceremonious. Jack grunted as she hit the floor, taking the brunt of the impact with Miranda landing on top of her. She was lying on her back, left arm around the unconscious woman, the other still held up protectively. It almost looked cozy, Miranda resting her head on Jack's shoulder. She snickered bitterly. Not the first pose this night that they rarely indulged in when they were intimate, but it seemed, in the middle of all this shitstorm, everything became romantic and cuddly.

The rubble shifted, the floor creaking as it tilted more, one part caving in and dragging some debris with it. Jack gasped as she felt the barrier shrink, everything starting to slide slowly forward. She couldn't cling onto anything and as their bubble stayed still relative to her, the weight of the rubble started to push them down the slope.

Jack frantically kicked around, finding the foot of the bed to momentarily stop their descent, but soon the bed started to move, too, with a creaking-scraping sound adding to the various other groans and grunts of the dying building.

She needed the bed for cover, especially since she knew she was going to run out of juice soon. Just like Miranda with the beam to take most of the weight and save her legs from getting crushed, maybe the bed will hold some of them up and create a pocket of space underneath where they could fit.

It seemed they would find out in a matter of seconds as the building slowly gave up and collapsed upon itself, dragging the screaming Jack and her ward with it. It was like the whole world fell. The space station that she crashed into that fucking Hanar moon was the closest to the sensation. That time she was high, though, and she did it on purpose, rode the burning junk all the way down the thin atmosphere. It was hot, loud and wild, but at least she had fun, and a heat shield.

This time, it was only her biotic barrier while the floor under them disintegrated, too. The weight of the always shifting upper layers of rubble sucked away the barrier, a shiny soap bubble in the middle of a tidal wave. It shrunk smaller, Jack could feel the currents as they dissipated the energy of the crushing stone and concrete, until they could barely fit inside it.

The bed she used for cover cracked, the legs giving way with a loud thud inside the bubble, and then it burst. Jack barely had enough time to turn to her side to shield Miranda from the shower of rock and dust, burying her face into matted hair to filter out what she could.

It was like a hundred volus showering her with their tiny little armored fists. Annoying at first, then the sheer number of them wearing her down. She realized she was screaming, a roar of anger and frustration. In the last two days she always played with the hand that she was dealt, but it became increasingly obvious that the other party was cheating, throwing up newer and crazier obstructions to stop her from getting to Miranda.

Jack lifted an arm above her head to protect her face from the barrage, and for a brief moment she wondered if fate was telling her over and over again not to find the girl. Maybe it was telling her since the Collector Base. _iThis bitch is going to be trouble/i_ , it was warning her, but she didn't listen. And then they got out of it alive, which was probably Shepard's way of giving fate the finger. But ever since then it was a bumpy ride. Short, intensive highs and long, painful lows.

And who was she kidding anyway, she wanted to find Miranda for herself. Some time during the night, after Miranda's gut-wrenching revelation and in that half-mad, sleep-deprived state she realized she needed her. And now there she was, the most beautiful girl in the world in her arms, and they were buried under tons of rubble. There was no light, the air was suffocating and she was sore all over in a million places, unable to move.

Jack kissed Miranda's head with a sigh. They were going to die here, and she wouldn't even know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

When Miranda first woke up, it was only for a few seconds. There was a dull pain in her skull and she could feel her limbs cramping up with sharp jolts that cut through the fog, making her whimper against her will. That also made her realize her throat was sore and even her lips were hurting. The world was a swaying, swinging blur. She realized she was having a seizure and promptly passed out.

The next time she could keep her eyes open long enough to focus on the shapes above her. She was looking for one face only and as soon as she recognized Oriana and saw that she was upright and seemingly unharmed, she let go. She let the void pull her back in and didn't care if she ever surfaced.

Eventually she did, though, and she found herself in a proper hospital on a proper bed. It was one of those long recovery wards with rows of beds along the walls, separated by curtains if the patient needed privacy. War always recreated these places and the people in them throughout history.

It also told her that she was probably gonna be fine, at least physically. She also didn't get special treatment, wasn't whisked off to either a private clinic, a hideout or a more spartan hospital for wanted fugitives. No guards at her bed.

Her skull was still throbbing, the light hurt her eyes, the world came in and out of focus and it felt like she was on a gently rocking boat. She already started to assess her situation, but it was hard to concentrate and organize her thoughts, which was probably for the better. She felt the IV in her arm and the tube in her nose, felt her hands and feet, but mostly she was very thirsty.

She heard movement and suddenly a bright spot was blocking her view. A few blinks later she could make out the details of Oriana's face, which made her sigh and try to smile. It was not as easy with parched lips.

"Hey," Oriana said softly, returning her smile. Miranda tried to say something but her sister lifted up a warning finger and shook her head. "Don't try to speak yet… we'll have enough time," she whispered, leaning close and adjusting Miranda's hair. She could feel the bandage on her head.

"Does it hurt anywhere…? Besides the obvious…?" Oriana asked.

Miranda slowly closed her eyes, trying to feel her body. She had a headache, but otherwise the worst she felt was the soreness from bruises and lying in bed for too long.

"No," she shook her head very carefully, grimacing slightly, her voice hoarse and strange.

"Good," Oriana said and she began to adjust her pillows, propping her up a bit higher and reached for a canteen with a straw and held it up for her. "Drink. Just slowly."

Miranda kept her eyes on Oriana like she was the strangest creature she ever saw, or maybe afraid that if she looked away, she would be gone. She managed to find the straw and took a few careful sips before she fell back into the pillows, exhausted.

"We are in the Recovery Ward of the Royal Marsden Hospital, in Sutton. That's South of London," Oriana explained, watching her closely, the canteen hovering nearby so Miranda could take an occasional sip as she listened. "It's been five days. You were dehydrated and had some infected cuts and bruises. And a nasty concussion. Do you remember what happened?"

Miranda blinked, nodding slowly. She had a vague memory of the battle and the explosion, but it got murky afterwards. She couldn't tell what was real and what she was dreaming after that. Did she really have a talk with Jack—?

She felt awkward about that and glanced around quickly, but nobody else was there with them.

"We wanted to blow up a hotel—" she frowned, trying to remember. "I can't remember much— And then Jack was there…?" she added uncertainly, looked around again, secretly hoping that the biotic would be around.

"Yes. Yes. She found you." Oriana nodded, smiling. It looked like she also caught her sister's hopeful glance. "She's fine, too. She's out there with her students, helping the relief efforts."

Miranda drank from the canteen again, sinking back into the pillows with a sigh. She was about to speak but Oriana was quick to catch the gesture again, and of course anticipate her reaction.

"It's okay," she rested a warm hand on Miranda's shoulder. It felt warm and made her relax. "You blew up the hotel. It's normal that you don't remember."

Miranda of course knew that, but it was very different and unnerving to go through it herself.

"H-how––?"

"Oh, yes," Oriana nodded, putting the canteen aside and settling in on the side of the bed. She took Miranda's hand. "We evacuated to Lunar orbit. It shielded us from—well, whatever the Crucible did. I know I should have waited a bit more, but I just couldn't...I took a shuttle and went to Jack as soon as it was possible. It took some convincing. She was reluctant to leave her students."

Oriana was not good at… obfuscating the truth, Miranda thought. She could tell this was not the whole reason Jack was reluctant. She could also guess what was she leaving out. Still, she couldn't be bothered to get upset about it, and not just because of the medication.

"We tracked your flight history until the crash," Oriana continued. "And then we found out who were deployed in that zone. We eventually found the 82nd, and they told us what happened. Most of them made it out, except your team," she fell quiet and let out a sigh. "It was already getting late. I'm sorry we couldn't get to you earlier."

Miranda shook her head. She opened her mouth, but Oriana was faster again.

"I know, Randa. I know. You didn't want me to look for you. I remember." She glared at her sister, but there was no real defiance in that look. Maybe just a bit disapproval as she squeezed Miranda's hand. "It wasn't me, anyway. When we got here, the field hospital was at a football pitch. I was sure that one way or another, I'll find you there."

"I'm sorry, Ori," Miranda whispered, her voice slowly returning.

"No. _I'm_ sorry. I was _this_ close to give up. But apparently, Jack wasn't." Oriana chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Boy, opposites attract, don't they?" she smiled warmly at Miranda, and quickly continued before her sister could protest. "I mean, I thought she gave up, too. But apparently, a few of the 82nd went back to find their captain. They did, and brought him back to the hospital. He didn't make it in the end.

"I ran into them outside the hospital a few hours later. Apparently Jack stole their jeep. They freaked out a bit at first, because they thought I was you. I don't know where everybody gets that," she chuckled again, shooting Miranda a mischievous glance. "We don't look _exactly_ the same!" She paused. ""I am not _that_ old."

Miranda smiled and nodded, but she felt her throat tighten. She hoped Oriana wouldn't draw the conclusions right here and now, because she was just too tired to handle it.

"Anyway, we figured out that Jack went out there to find you, and I was left here to worry about her, too. I didn't know when she would return… if at all," she rolled her eyes and fell quiet. Getting more serious she shook her head. "I mean, I only met Jack briefly, but if she would die out there looking for you… I felt really bad about it. You told me not to look for you, and now I managed to get Jack out there alone, too. I'm sorry, sis…"

"Don't—" Miranda whispered, trying to squeeze her hand. She slowly felt her strength returning, and the dizziness and headache fading, but the painkillers were still making her groggy. She hated those damn drugs, how they impaired her thinking and prevented her from easing Oriana's mind.

"Yeah, but I did, for selfish reasons" Oriana said with a sigh. She paused, absently brushing Miranda's hair from her forehead. "So I went back into the field hospital and put my first aid training to use. It took my mind off of things."

"That's good."

"Well, it didn't last long. I was ready to pass out on a bench somewhere, when Jack's students appeared. It turned out that they hitched a ride on a transport and came here to help. They found me through the 82nd."

Oriana chuckled. "They must have been thinking that you are some sort of dignitary or the President of Earth or something, what with all the people looking for you."

Miranda nodded, forcing a tired smile on her face. Their eyes met and she could see the flash of seriousness in Oriana's eyes. Miranda had to tell her what she did working for Cerberus and why other people might be looking for her. They never really had too much time to talk the whole thing over. Explaining everything before Oriana was born up until they finally met on Illium is not something you do over coffee or a nice lunch. They both knew they had to be careful and obfuscate the truth if not outright lie about Miranda.

There will be awkward conversations later with a few people.

"So anyway," Oriana continued after a long beat, brushing off the darker thoughts for now. "We had a big talk. The kids wanted to go after Jack. The guys from 82nd and even me had to talk them down. It was very intense. I mean, the things they said about the streets—" Oriana shuddered. "It was hard trying to convince them to stay put, when everything the guys said just wanted to make me go out there and find you.

"We sorted it out eventually. The guys from the 82nd were very helpful. They helped us arrange Jack's squad to be reassigned from the 103rd Marines to the rescue effort. They had to be clever about it because neither Jack, nor the kids were acting under orders. Red tape, you know.

"After a few hours they were set up to go out with the first rescue and recovery teams in the morning. Coincidentally in the same sector you went missing."

Miranda listened quietly, her thoughts drifting lazily on the mind-numbing drugs. She was getting exhausted just from listening and keeping her eyes open. The only thing she tried to make a mental note of, and hoped she would remember it later, that it was quite a bit of a stir that the biotic students and the 82nd created, which was bound to raise some questions later. She needs to be prepared.

"Prangley said that they met a sniper scout who saw Jack the other night and pointed them in the right direction." Miranda raised an eyebrow. Prangley was one of Jack's students. Oriana mentioning the kid by name— "Yeah. I think he has a crush on me," Oriana laughed, once again reading Miranda's thoughts. It was disconcerting, how easily she picked up on these nuances. It was just the drugs, Miranda told herself.

"Well anyway, he said they found a group of trees in a park that were _bent_ out of shape and curled towards a Dragon's Teeth that was stuck in the ground. That's how they knew that Jack went that way the night before," she chuckled, her expression quickly turning grim. "Jack told me about it. It must have been horrible."

"I don't remember much," Miranda shrugged. It was not completely true, but she hoped that Oriana would miss the clues and chalk up her grimace to her exhaustion.

She did remember a lot of it. She remembered waking up to already gripping the tip in her hands and felt the pressure on her stomach. She must have been in shock from the detonation when her body automatically reacted to the movement of the Dragon's Teeth.

She remembered holding it for a long, long time, her hands slowly getting slippery, the pressure randomly easing up when the spike moved a bit, pushing away the smaller bits of rubble. She remembered the cramp traveling down her arms, starting from her shoulders and ending with her wrists in pain.

She remembered the fits of sobs from the exhaustion and the mind-numbing pain in her muscles. She lost track of time, her whole attention focused on holding that damn thing back and fighting the pain both in her arms and her legs, pinned under the rubble. She even missed when it got dark around her. It was a long, dull blur, the world reduced to that stretch of metal pointing at her torso.

She wanted to give up. She wanted to let go and get it over with. She screamed. She sobbed. When the rain started to fall and it got slippery, she even loosened her grip on it. In the end she couldn't do it. She didn't want to end up as a husk. Not like those abominations—

"...Randa? Miranda?! Stay with me!" Oriana's voice came muffled at first, everything had a red hue and it was all foggy. Oriana was leaning over her, patting her cheek, checking her IV fluid, feeling her pulse.

The world came back, sights and sounds returning to normal.

"You had a seizure," Oriana said quietly, checking her pupils. "It happened a few times already while you were unconscious. It will go away eventually."

She sounded confident, reassuring. Miranda wanted to believe her, but she knew it was not just a seizure. It was a panic attack and she was too weak to keep it under control.

"I'm better now," she croaked and glanced at the canteen. Oriana quickly grabbed it and held it for her to drink.

"It'll be fine," Oriana nodded, convincing herself, too. "I'll cut it short, then. I'm sure Jack will tell it to you all in gory detail." She chuckled. "By the way, we'll have to talk about her, and your silly arrangement, too."

"Oriana—" Miranda sighed, trying to lift a hand and shake her head.

"I'll let it go… for now," she smiled before continuing. "The point is that they heard gunshots coming from the hotel across the park and saw the building collapse. They found you guys fast enough—You will hear this part over and over again in the foreseeable future, believe me. Apparently it was very… dramatic.

"They moved the rubble and found Jack holding you in her arms, like you were just cuddling and sleeping. The biotic bubble lasted long enough so it didn't crush you guys, but you were running out of air. Prangley said it was the most touching thing he ever saw. He likes to ramble on, going into every detail—" Oriana chuckled, then quickly cleared her throat. "Anyway. She held you, you were there, and when they pulled you out, she wouldn't let go. She woke up and almost attacked everybody, trying to protect you. They almost needed to sedate her so they could get you guys out of there.

"She only let go when you were on the stretcher and the trauma team stabilized you." Oriana paused again. "I wish I was there. It must have been quite a sight…"

Oriana stopped, twisting her torso as she sat on the bed and nodded to the next one. "Then Jack passed out, too, but she only needed to get her wounds treated and sleep it off, right there. She was up the next day. She leads her own mixed recovery team now. But she comes in after her shift and sleeps here on the chairs."

Miranda exhaled slowly, not even realizing she held her breath a little. She remembered lying in Jack's arms, cold and utterly exhausted. She might have cried, too… was there some kissing? Why did she remember Jack kissing her? Or was it just a feverish dream? She absently lifted a hand to touch her lips, only realizing what she was doing when Oriana tilted her head and flashed her one of her smiles that could melt ice.

"I see," she said, her voice sounding much more like her old self. She pulled herself together a bit, adjusting her blanket. Judging by the light, it was probably late afternoon, Jack and her team still out on the field. "And you…? How about you?"

"Oh, I volunteer here at the hospital for a few hours every day," Oriana shrugged, looking around the quiet hall. There were whispered discussions between a few patients, some had visitors, others lay quiet, staring at the ceiling with an empty gaze, or sleeping on painkillers. "I bunked in with Jack's team, but when I'm off-duty, I'm usually around here. Oh, and I might get another job, too!"

Her mood was contagious, and Miranda found herself smiling again.

"What is it?"

"Well, I helped out a bit with finding shelters for the civilians and the military personnel. I told them I studied colonial development at the uni. They liked it and I might get to deal with resettlement and all the arrangements." Oriana was in her element, waving her hand eagerly. Miranda nodded to herself. It made sense to utilize her skills like this. It was smart, and safe, and she would be good at it.

"You would be good at it," Miranda said out loud.

"I know," Oriana smiled, adjusting the blankets and pillows absently. She let Miranda drink a few more gulps of water before taking the canteen away. "And you just take it easy, okay? Don't drink much."

"Five days?" Miranda asked sleepily, thinking back to what Oriana said earlier.

"The doctors said it would take weeks before you would be strong enough," Oriana said with a smug grin. "He doesn't know who he's dealing with."

Miranda sighed and nodded with an exhausted smile. She has to take care to wipe the medical records from the system. But not now. Now she needed to sleep.

When she opened her eyes it was already dark. It felt like only a moment has passed, and poof! Oriana was gone, and she felt a pang of loss. The pale LED lights casting the room in a ghastly, unnatural dimness made her uneasy. Everything was quiet, and as she looked around, she didn't see any visitors or nurses moving around. It was late, and she was fully awake. It was going to be a long night.

She reached out for the canteen, strong enough to hold it and considerably less shaky than before. It never felt so good to drink water before. She let out a soft sigh as her mouth suddenly felt a part of her body again, and the relief spread through her chest and limbs.

It also made something growl and spring up next to her.

"Sonuvabitch," Jack snorted, half-awake, one hand already in the air, biotic energy glowing around her fist as she looked around to punch whoever woke her up.

Even Miranda jumped a bit. Somehow she missed the tattooed woman sleeping in a lounge seat next to her bed. It was easy to miss her, as she already half slid out of the chair, where she fell asleep.

Jack crawled back up into the seat and blinked aggressively. She turned her eyes towards Miranda, who was still clutching the canteen in her hand, looking at her with eyebrows raised.

"Oh," Jack muttered, sniffing, focusing on her. "Hey," she added almost sulkingly.

Miranda's expression softened and managed a weak smile. She could have sworn that Jack looked stricken, her dark eyes wide as she looked over her, like she saw something impossible happen. The biotic fidgeted with the bedsheets absently, looking like she was about to say something but not daring to speak, worried that the illusion might break.

"Hi," Miranda whispered, gripping the canteen awkwardly. She felt her pulse rising and her ears burning a bit as she tried to stay collected and not blurt out everything at once. It was unnerving, how Jack kept staring at her. Miranda swallowed. "Thank you for–"

She could not finish. Jack was already leaping forward, lifting a hand around Miranda's head, fingers wrapping around the nape of her neck and kissing her desperately. For a few seconds, Miranda was so taken aback by the intensity that she forgot to breathe. She saw Jack close her eyes and feel her long, shuddering exhale as their lips met. It felt like an enormous tension just discharged and evaporated, all coming down to a thirsty, needy mashing of lips.

Jack was tasting her and she quickly recovered, lifting a trembling hand to the tattooed biotic's half-shaven head. They held onto each other for a long time, breathing heavily through their noses, tasting salt on each other's lips. They weren't sure whose tears.

Miranda ran out of breath faster, pulling away reluctantly, taking slow, deep breaths. Jack pulled back, licking her lips with a smirk.

"It's over," Miranda whispered.

"The drinks are on you, though," Jack said.

"Drinks are on me," Miranda agreed.

Their moment didn't last longer, though, both looked away and collected themselves.

"If you breathe one word about this to anyone–" Jack said, shooting Miranda a warning glance.

"Oh, shut up, psycho."

Miranda tilted her head and tapped the bed right next to her. Jack grinned and crawled over there, shuffling until Miranda was leaning on her shoulder and Jack had her arms around her.

A comfortable silence stretched between them, their fingers intertwined, both watching their hands absently.

"Did we really talk about Oriana… Back there?" Miranda asked quietly after a long while.

"Don't worry about it."

"I don't remember everything. What–?"

"I said, don't worry about it," Jack muttered, squeezing her shoulders. "There'll be plenty of time."

Miranda turned her head and pulled away a bit, looking at Jack curiously.

"There will be?" she asked, almost amused.

Jack let out a frustrated sigh.

"I've been thinking, okay? Your little sister has been nagging me, the little shit," Jack said with a snort. "She gets under your skin, that one."

Miranda pursed her lips.

"Fair enough," she conceded. She was too tired to take issue with Jack's words. She was right about Oriana, though. "Listen–"

"I mean, maybe we were wrong about this keeping the distance thing," Jack blurted out before Miranda could continue.

"That's what I–"

"And to be fucking honest, this whole 'not getting attached' bullshit is… I don't know, man. I guess it was already too late for that."

"Jack–"

"It gives you something to fight for, you know? Something to get you through the night."

"Jack!" Miranda raised her voice, which sounded much louder than she intended in the quiet of the hospital room. They both fell silent and stared at each other.

Miranda lifted a hand and gently put two fingers on Jack's blood red lips.

"I've been alone all my life, Jack," she said, almost pleading. "With my father. And when I got Oriana away… Even at Cerberus, you know. Sure, I had partners and a crew, but…" Miranda shrugged and smiled apologetically, cupping Jack's cheeks now that she had her attention. "They were not my peers."

"We've never talked about this, Jack. I mean, we really went out of our way not to." She shook her head. "The first time I felt I belonged to something good. Something bigger… it was on the Normandy. And the first time I really felt I was with somebody who was just as messed up as me…" she didn't need to finish. It was in her eyes.

Miranda sighed, leaning her head on Jack's shoulder, exhausted.

"I'm tired of being alone, Jack."

Jack stared at her frozen, at a loss for words. She forgot to even breathe. Miranda suddenly felt small in her arms and she had to wrap her arm tighter around her shoulder just to make sure she's still there.

Oh, sure, she knew loneliness. She knew it most of her life. But ever since getting a teacher's job at Grissom–

"Well, uh, okay. I mean, sure," she mumbled, feeling Miranda squeeze her other hand. "Maybe we should try this staying together shit."

"I would like that, Jack."

Jack sighed. Her head was suddenly full of questions, doubts, a lot of uncomfortable thoughts.

"But if you think I would tone down and be tame and shit," she mumbled, although she already knew it was an empty threat. She had her students now and they were already ruining her street cred. "I mean, don't expect me not to fuck up and say shit…"

Miranda leaned closer and pecked a soft kiss on the corner of her lips before slipping back and resting her head on Jack's shoulder. She nestled in and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and letting out a soft sigh.

"I don't give a flying fuck about that, Jack," she whispered with a soft smile.

Jack grinned and held her until they both fell asleep.


End file.
